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INDIAN  WAR  DANCE. 


THE 


INDIAN: 


BATTLE-FIELD 


AND     IN     THE 


.       BY 

JOHN     FROST,      LL.D. 


BOSTON- 
THAYER     &     ELDRIDQE, 

n4  <x  116  Washington  Street. 
1860. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  18o7,.  by 

WENTWORTH  &  COMPANY, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massaohusetts. 


TO   THE  HEADEU. 

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PREFACE. 


These  sketches  are  drawn  from  a  great  variety 
of  sources,  and  -are  intended,  not  only  to  exhibit 
the  Indian  character  in  all  its  phases,  but  to  com- 
prise in  a  small  compass  a  valuable  collection  of 
narratives  of  Indian  warfare,  embracing  views  of 

their  peculiar  methods  of  strategy,  ambuscades,  and 

(t) 


rt 


PREFACE. 


surprises— their  treatment  of  prisoners,  and  their 
other  characteristic  manners  and  customs. 

By  the  aid  of  Mr.  Croome,  and  other  eminent 
artists,  I  have  been  able  to  illustrate  the  volume 
quite  profusely  with  engravings.  I  trust  that  the 
work  will  be  found  a  useful  as  well  as  interesting 
contribution  to  historical  literature. 


^'  .unt    ; 


CONTENTS. 


Indian  Character, 

Indian  Friendship, 

The  Captive  Sister, 

Parental  Affection,    - 

The  Friendly  Manoeuvre,  - 

Grand  Sun, 

Tecumseh  and  the  Prophet, 

The  Destruction  of  Montreal, 

A  Buffalo  Hunt, 

Indian  Papooses, 

Mrs.  Hanson  and  her  Children, 

The  Story  of  Shonka, 


9 
17 

24 
32 
41 
46 
57 
69 
77 
82 
86 
99 


(yii) 


viii  CONTENTS. 

The  Death  of  Canonchet,              -  -            -     116 

Church  and  the  Narragansett,  -             -            127 

The  Death  of  King  Philip,             -  -             -     135 

The  Rain  Makers,        -             _  _             -            145 

The  Bride's  Rescue,           _             -  _             _     163 

Yondeega's  Gratitude,              -  _             _            181 

The  Burning  of  Deerfield,             -  _             .     205 

The  Fire  Water,          -             -  -             -            213 

Farmer's  Brother,               -             -  .          -  -     222 

The  Prophet  of  the  Allegany,  -             -            228 

Peter  Otsaquette,               -             -  _             -     241 

Perfidy  Punished,        -             -  -             -     '       248 

Adventures  of  Daniel  Boone,        -  _             -     255 

Adventure  of  General  Putnam,  -            -           287 

The  Indians  of  St.  Mary's,              -  -             -     305 

Red  Jacket,      -             -             -  -             -            332 

Weatherford,         -             -             _  _             _     345 

The  Battle  of  Saco  Pond,        -  -             _           357 
WiNGINA,                     _____      365 

Harold  Dean,  or  the  Indian's  Revenge,          -  370 
Bienville's  Expedition  against  the  Chicasaws.    -     387 


STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


INDIAN  GEATITUDE. 

OT  long  after  Connecti- 
cut began  to  be  set- 
tled by  the  English,  a 
stranger  Indian  came 
one  day  to  a  ta.vern  in 
one  of  its  towns  in  the 
dusk  of  the  evening, 
and  requested  the  hos- 
tess to  supply  him  with  something  to  eat  and 

(9) 


STORIES  OF  TUE  INDIANS. 

drink ;  at  the  same  time  he  honestly  told  her 
that  he  could  not  pay  for  either,  as  he  had 
had  no  success  in  hunting  for  several  days ; 
but  that  he  would  return  payment  as  soon  as 
he  should  meet  with  better  fortune. 

The  hostess,  who  was  a  very  ill-tempered 
woman,  not  only  flatly  refused  to  relieve 
him,  but  added  abuse  to  her  unkindness, 
calling  him  a  lazy,  drunken  fellow,  and  told 
him  that  she  did  not  work  so  hard  herself,  to 
throw  away  her  earnings  upon  such  vaga- 
bonds as  he  was. 

There  was  a  man  sitting  in  the  same  room 
of  the  tavern,  who,  on  hearing  the  conversa- 
tion, looked  up,  and  observing  the  Indian's 
countenance,  which  plainly  showed  that  he 
was  suffering  severely  from  want  and  fatigue, 
and  being  of  a  humane  disposition,  he  told 
the  woman  to  give  the  poor  wanderer  some 
supper,  and  he  would  pay  for  it. 

She  did  so:  .and  when  the  Indian  had 
finished  his  meal,  he  turned  towards  his  be- 
nefactor, thanked  him,  and  told  him  that  he 
should  not  forget  his  kindness.     "  As  for  the 


INDIAN  GRATITUDE.  11 

woman,"  he  added,  "all  I  can  give  her  is  a 
story — if  she  likes  to  hear  it."  The  woman, 
being  now  in  a  rather,  better  temper,  and 
having  some  curiosity  to  hear  what  he  had 
to  tell,  readily  consented,  and  the  Indian  ad- 
dressed her  as  follows : 

"I  suppose  you  read  the  Bible?"  The 
woman  assented.  "Well,"  continued  the 
Indian,  "the  Bible  say,  God  made  the  world, 
and  then  he  took  him,  and  looked  on  him, 
and  say,  '  It's  all  very  good.'  Then  he  made 
light,  and  took  him,  and  looked  on  him,  and 
say,  '  It's  all  very  good.'  Then  he  made  dry 
land,  and  water,  and  sun,  and  moon,  and 
grass,  and  trees,  and  took  him,  and  say,  '  It's 
all  very  good.'  Then  he  made  beasts,  and 
bird,  and  fishes,  and  took  him,  and  looked  on 
him,  and  say,  'It's  all  very  good."  Then  he 
made  man,  and  took  him,  and  looked  on  him, 
and  say,  '  It's  all  very  good.'  And  last  of  all 
he  made  ivoman,  and  took  him,  and  looked  on 
him,  and  he  no  dare  say  one  such  wordP  The 
Indian,  having  told  his  story,  departed. 

Some  years  after,  the  man  who  had  be- 


12  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

friended  the  Indian  had  occasion  to  go  some 
distance  into  the  wilderness  between  Litch- 
field and  Albany,  which  is  now  a  populous 
city,  but  then  contained  only  a  few  houses. 
Here  he  was  taken  prisoner  by  an  Indian 
scout,  and  carried  off  into  Canada.  When  he 
arrived  at  the  principal  settlement  of  their 
tribe,  which  was  on  the  banks  of  the  great' 
river  St.  Lawrence,  some  of  the  Indians  pro- 
posed that  he  should  be  put  to  death,  in  re- 
venge for  the  wrongs  that  they  had  suffered 
from  the  white  men ;  and  this  probably  would 
have  been  his  fate,  had  not  an  old  Indian 
woman,  or  squaw,  as  they  are  called,  de- 
manded that  he  should  be  given  up  to  her, 
that  she  might  adopt  him  in  place  of  her  son, 
whom  she  had  lately  lost  in  war.  He  was 
accordingly  given  to  her,  and,  as  it  is  custo- 
mary under  such  circumstances,  was  thence- 
forth treated  in  the  same  manner  as  her  own 
son. 

In  the  following  summer,  as  he  was  one  day 
at  work  in  the  forest  by  himself,  felling  trees. 
an  Indian,  who  was  unknown  to  him,  came; 


INDIAN  GRATITUDE.  I  I 

up  and  asked  him  to  meet  him  the  following 
day  at  a  certain  spot  which  he  described. 
The  white  man  agreed  to  do  so,  but  not  with- 
out some  apprehension  that  mischief  was  in- 
tended. During  the  night  these  fears  in- 
creased to  so  great  a  degree,  as  effectually  to 
prevent  his  keeping  his  appointment. 

However,  a  few  days  after,  the  same  In- 
dian, finding  him  at  work,  mildly  reproved  him 
for  not  keeping  his  promise.  The  man  made 
the  best  excuse  he  could,  but  the  Indian  was 
not  satisfied  until  he  had  again*promised  to 
meet  him  the  next  morning  at  the  place 
already  agreed  on. 

Accordingly,  when  he  arrived  at  the  spot, 
he  found  the  Indian  already  there,  provided 
with  two  muskets  and  powder,  and  two  knap- 
sacks. The  Indian  ordered  him  to  take  one 
of  each,  and  to  follow  him.  The  direction  of 
their  march  was  southward.  The  man  fol- 
lowed without  the  least  knowledge  of  what 
he  was  to  do,  or  whither  he  was  going,  but 
he  concluded  that  if  the  Indian  intended  to 
do  him  harm,  he  would  have  despatched  him 

2 


14  STORIES  OP  THE  INDIANS. 

at  the  first  meeting,  and  certainly  would  not 
have  provided  him  with  a  musket  and  powder 
for  defence.  His  fears,  therefore,  gradually 
subsided,  although  the  Indian  maintained  an 
obstinate  silence  when  he  questioned  him 
concerning  the  object  of  their  expedition. 

In  the  day  time  they  shot  and  cooked  as 
much  game  as  they  required,  and  at  night 
they  kindled  a  fire  by  which  they  slept.  After 
a  fatiguing  journey  through  the  forest  for 
many  days,  they  came  one  morning  to  the 
top  of  a  hill  from  which  there  was  the  pros- 
pect of  a  cultivated  country,  interspersed 
with  several  snug  farm-houses. 

"I^ow,"  said  the  Indian  to  his  joyfulcom- 
panion,  "do  you  know  where  you  are?" 
"  1  ^s,"  replied  he,  "  we  are  not  ten  miles 
fr^  "my  own  village."  "And  do  you  not 
knc  .  J  poor  Indian  at  the  tavern? — you  feed 
him — y^^i  speak  kind  to  him — I  am  that  poor 
Indian ; —  now  go  home."  Having  said  this, 
he  bade  him  farewell,  and  the  man  joyfully- 
returned  to  his  own  home. 


* 


SILOUEE. 


INDIAN  FEIENDSHIR 


OME  of  the  earlier  set- 
tlers of  Yirginia  acted 
in  the  most  barbarous 
manner  towards  their 
Indian  neighbors,  and 
it  is,  therefore,  not  won- 
derful that  they  some- 
times received  a  ter- 
rible punishment.  But  though  revenge  was 
usually  uppermost  in  the  breasts  of  the  injured 
ones,  instances  occurred  in  which  the  sacred 

2*  (17) 


18  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

feeling  of  friendship  triuiLphed  over  that  pas- 
sion and  the  prejudice  of  the  race. 

On  one  occasion,  Colonel  Bird  was  employed 
by  the  English  government  to  transact  some 
business  with  the  tribe  of  Ch^rokees.  It  un- 
fortunately happened  that  a  short  time  before 
he  went  among  them,  some  white  people  had 
seized  two  Indians,  who  had  given  them  some 
trifling  offence,  and  had  put  them  to  death ; 
and  the  Indians,  indignant  at  the  outrage, 
determined  to  take  revenge  whenever  the  op- 
portunity offered.  The  appearance  of  Colonel 
Bird  presented  the  wished-for  opportunity, 
and  consultations  were  held  as  to  the  most 
effectual  means  of  getting  him  into  their 
power,  and  of  making  him  the  sacrifice. 

Colonel  Bird  perceived  their  intentions,  and 
felt  that  he  had  just  cause  for  alarm,  as  he 
was  in  their  country,  without  the  means  of 
escape.  Among  the  neighboring  Cherokees, 
was  one  named  Silouee,  celebrated  as  a  chief 
and  pow-wow,  or  medicine  man.  He  had 
known  Colonel  Bird  for  some  time,  had  eaten 
with  liim,  and  felt  a  deep  friendship  for  him.^ 


INDIAN  FRIENDSHIP.  ^  19 

Silouee  told  Colonel  Bird  not  to  be  alarmed, 
and  even  assured  him  that  the  Indians  should 
not  injure  him. .  At  length,  in  a  general 
council  of  the  chiefs  and  old  men  of  the  tribe, 
it  was  determined  in  spite  of  Silouee' s  earnest 
remonstrances,  that  Colonel  Bird  should  be 
put  to  death  in  revenge  for  the  loss  of  their 
countrymen. 

Two  warriors  were  despatched  to  Colonel 
Bird's  tent,  to  execute  the  cruel  sentence. 
Silouee.  insisted  on  accompanying  them.  On 
reaching  the  tent,  Silouee  rushed  in  before 
them,  threw  himself  on  the  bosom  of  his  friend, 
and  as  the  warriors  approached,  he  exclaimed, 
"This  man  is  my  friend;  before  you  take 
him,  you  must  kill  me,'' 

Awed  by  Silouee' s  determined  magnanimity, 
the  warriors  returned  to  the  council,  and  re- 
lated what  had  occurred.  Indians  generally 
respect  a  faithful  friend  as  much  as  they 
esteem  one  who  is  implacable  in  his  revenge. 
The  consultation  was  reversed.  Silouee's 
noble  conduct  altered  their  purpose.  They 
therefore  released  Colonel  Bird,  and  bade  him 


20  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

go  to  his  home  in  peace.  Silouee  acted  as  his 
guide  and  protector  until  Colonel  Bird  came 
in  sight  of  his  tent.  As  they  parted,  the  In- 
dian's last  words  to  his  friend  were,  "When 
you  see  poor  Indian  in  fear  of  death  from 
cruel  white  men,  remember  Silouee." 

Some  years  after  Colonel  Bird's  life  had 
been  saved  by  Silouee,  he  became  a  Yirginia 
planter,  and  took  up  his  residence  near  the 
James  river.  Silouee  retained  his  friendship 
for  him,  becoming  his  near  neighbor..  Like 
many  of  his  nation,  he  had,  by  intercourse 
with  the  whites,  acquired  a  great  taste  for 
"  strong  waters,"  or  ardent  spirits,  and  the 
dignity  of  the  chief  was  frequently  lowered 
by  drunkenness.  On  one  occasion.  Colonel 
Bird  had  gone  to  another  part  of  the  country, 
on  business,  and  had  left  the  care  of  his  plan- 
tation to  his  overseer.  The  tobacco  had  ob- 
tained some  size,  and  a  long  drought  coming 
on,  there  was  a  prospect  that  the  crop  would 
be  much  injured.  We  have  stated  that  Si- 
louee was  a  pow-wow,  or  Indian  medicine- 
man and  conjurer.     One  day  when  he  came 


INDIAN    GRATITUDE.  21 

to  the  plantation,  the  overseer  expressed  his 
opinion  that  the  tobacco  crop  would  be  en- 
tirely lost,  if  rain  did  not  soon  fall. 

*'Well,"  said  the  Indian,  "what  will  you 
give  me  if  I  bring  rain  ?" 

'*  You  bring  rain,"  said  the  overseer, 
laughing. 

*'Me  can,"  said  the  Indian.  "Give  me 
two  bottles  of  rum — only  two,  and  me  bring 
rain  enough." 

The  overseer  cast  his  eye  towards  the  hea- 
vens, but  could  discern  no  appearance  that 
foretold  rain.  To  gratify  the  Indian,  he  pro- 
mised to  give  him  the  two  bottles  of  rum 
when  Colonel  Bird  arrived,  in  case  the  rain 
should  come  speedily  and  save  the  crop  of 
tobacco. 

Silouee  now  fell  to  pow-wowing  with  all  his 
might,  making  grimaces,  contorting  his  body, 
and  uttering  strange,  unintelligible  ejacula- 
tions. 

It  was  a  hot,  close  day,  and  it  so  happened 
that  towards  evening,  the  sky,  which  had 
been  clear  for  some  weeks,  clouded  over,  and 


22  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

the  appearance  of  tlie  heavens  was  strongly 
in  favor  of  rain.  Before  midnight  thunder 
was  heard,  and  heavy  showers  of  rain  watered 
the  colonel's  plantation  thoroughly ;  while  it 
was  remarked  that  the  showers  were  so  par- 
tial that  the  neighboring  plantations  were 
left  almost  as  dry  as  they  were  before.  The 
Indian  waited  quietly  till  the  rain  was  over, 
and  then  walked  away.  A  few  days  after, 
the  colonel  returned  to  the  plantation,  and, 
when  Silouee  heard  of  his  arrival,  he  went 
immediately  to  visit  him. 

"  Master  Bird,"  said  he,  ''  me  come  for  my 
two  bottles  of  rum." 

"  Tour  two  bottles  of  rum,"  exclaimed  the 
colonel,  pretending  not  to  know  any  thing  of 
the  matter;  "pray  do  I  owe  you  two  bottles 
of  rum?" 

"  You  do,"  replied  the  Indian. 

"How  so?"  inquired  the  colonel. 

"  Me  bring  you  rain — me  save  your  crop," 
said  the  Indian. 

"You  bring  rain,"  said  the  colonel;  "no 
such  thing." 


INDIAN   GRATITUDE.  23 

"Me  did/'  persisted  the  Indian;  "me 
loved  you ;  me  tell  overseer  to  give  me  two 
bottles  of  rum,  and  then  me  bring  rain.  Over- 
seer say  he  would ;  me  bring  cloud,  then  rain ; 
now  me  want  rum." 

"  You  saw  the  cloud,"  said  Colonel  Bird ; 
"  you  are  a  sad  cheat." 

"Me  no  cheat,"  said  the  Indian;  "me  saw 
no  cloud ;  me  hring  cloud." 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  colonel,  you  are  an 
old  friend,  and  you  shall  have  the  rum,  since 
you  beg  so  hard  for  it.  But  mind  you,  it  is 
not  for  the  rain.  The  Great  Spirit  sent  the 
rain,  not  you." 

"Well,"  said  the  Indian,  ''your  tobacco 
had  rain  upon  it — why  others  have  noThef 
Answer  that,  colonel,  if  you  can." 


THE  CAPTIYE  SISTEE. 

^STANCES  are  recorded 
in  which  white  children 
have  been  captured  and 
brought  up  by  the  In- 
dians, and  have  so  far 
forgotten  early  associa- 
tions as  to  become  iden- 
tified in  habits  and  man- 
ners with  their  red  captors.  In  most  of  these 
(24) 


THE  CAPTIVE  SISTER. 


THE  CAPTIVE  SISTER.  2? 

cases,  the  adopted  Indian  could  not  be  in- 
duced to  return  to  the  haunts  of  civilization 
and  the  friends  of  his  or  her  race ;  which  fact 
would  seem  to  prove  that,  either  the  life  of  the 
Indian  is  happier  than  that  of  the  civilized 
white  man,  or,  the  qualities  of  our  nature 
may  be  altered  by  the  power  of  habit. 

In  1778,  the  family  of  Mr.  Jonathan  Slocum, 
near  Wilkesbarre,  (Campbell's  Wyoming,) 
Pennsylvania,  was  attacked  by  Indians. 
Within  the  house  were  two  girls,  aged  nine 
and  five  years,  a  son  of  thirteen,  a  little  boy 
of  two  and  a  half,  and  their  mother.  The 
men  were  working  in  the  field,  and  two  ^nths 
were  in  the  porch  grinding  a  knife.  One  of 
the  latter  was  shot  and  scalped  with  his  own 
knife.  The  eldest  sister  seized  the  little  boy 
and  ran  with  him  towards  the  fort.  The  In- 
dians took  the  boy  who  had  been  turning  the 
grindstone,  young  Slocum,  and  his  sister 
Frances,  and  prepared  to  depart.  Little  Slo- 
cum being  lame,  they  set  him  down,  and  pro- 
ceeded on  their  way.  One  of  the  Indians 
threw  the  little  girl  over  his  shoulder,  and 


28  STORIES  OP  THE  INDIANS. 

her  weeping  face  was  the  last  object  of  the 
mother's  gaze. 

About  a  month  afterwards,  the  savages  re- 
turned, murdered  the  aged  grandfather,  shot 
a  ball  into  the  leg  of  the  lame  boy,  and  then 
plunging  into  the  woods  were  heard  of  no 
more.  Tears  passed  away ;  the  mother  died 
of  grief  for  her  lost  child.  The  two  remaining 
brothers,  grown  to  manhood,  resolved  to  aS' 
certain  the  fate  of  their  sister.  They  made 
every  inquiry,  travelled  through  the  west  and 
into  the  Canadas,  but  all  in  vain ;  and  for 
fifty-eight  years,  the  captive's  fate  was  un- 
known. 

At  length,  in  1836,  accident  discovered  what 
inquiry  could  not.  The  Hon.  Gr.  W.  Ewing, 
United  States  agent  to  Indian  Territory,  while 
travelling  on  the  banks  of  the  Mississiniwa, 
lost  his  way  and  was  benighted,  and  compelled 
to  take  shelter  in  an  Indian  wigwam.  The 
agent  was  kindly  received,  and  after  supper, 
entered  into  conversation  with  the  hostess. 
He  was  soon  surprised  by  observing  that  her 
hair  was  fine  and  flaxen-colored,  and  that, 


THE  CAPTIVE  SISTER.  29 

under  her  dress,  her  skin  appeared  to  be 
white.  Upon  inquiry,  she  informed  him 
that  she  was  the  daughter  of  white  parents, 
that  her  name  was  Slocum,  that  when  five 
years  old  she  had  been  carried  captive,  by  In- 
dians, from  a  house  on  the  Susquehanna.  All 
else  was  forgotten. 

On  reaching  home,  Ewing  wrote  an  account 
of  the  affair,  and  sent  it  to  Lancaster  for  pub- 
lication. Through  neglect,  however,  it  was 
not  published  for  two  years  afterwards ;  but 
it  was  then  seen  by  Mr.  Slocum,  of  Wilkes- 
barre,  the  little  boy  who  had  been  saved  by 
the  girl,  sixty  years  before.  He  immediately 
started  for  Indiana,  accompanied  by  the  sister 
who  had  saved  him,  at  the  same  time  writing 
to  his  brother  to  meet  him  at  the  wigwam. 
The  incidents  connected  with  this  visit  have 
been  preserved,  and  are  interesting. 

On  entering  the  cabin,  they  beheld  an  In- 
dian woman,  apparently  seventy-five  years 
old,  painted  and  jewelled.  Tet  her  hair  was 
as  the  agent  had  described  it,  and  her  skin 
beneath  her  dress  appeared  white.     They  ob- 

3* 


30  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

tained  an  interpreter  and  began  to  converse. 
We  may  imagine  the  feelings  of  the  little 
party,  while  they  listened  to  the  Indian  wo- 

an's  tale.  The  incidents  of  the  assault  and 
capture — too  well  known  already^were  dis- 
closed with  a  faithfulness  which  left  no  room 
for  doubt.  "  How  came  your  nail  gone  ?"  in- 
quired the  sister.  '^My  elder  brother  pounded 
it  off  when  I  was  a  little  child  in  the  shop." 
"  What  was  your  name  then  ?"  She  did  not 
remember.  "  Was  it  Frances  ?"  She  smiled 
on  hearing  the  long-forgotten  sound,  and 
promptly  answered,  "Yes."  All  were  now 
satisfied  that  they  were  of  one  family,  and 
yet  there  was  little  joy  in  that  meeting. 
There  was  a  sadness,  not  merely  through  re- 
membrance of  the  past,  but  of  a  kind  present, 
deep,  painful ;  for  though  the  brothers  were 
walking  the  cabin  unable  to  speak,  and  the 
sister  was  sobbing,  yet  there  sat  the  poor  In- 
dian sister,  no  throb  of  emotion  disturbing 
her  equanimity. 

Her  previous  history  may  soon  be  told.  It 
was  the  Delaware  tribe  who  had  taken  her 


THE  CAPTIVE  SISTER.  31 

captive,  and  when  she  grew  up  among  them, 
she  married  one  of  their  chiefs.  He  died  or 
deserted  her,  and  she  then  married  a  Miami. 
She  had  two  daughters,  who  both  grew  up  and 
married  Indians.  They  all  lived  in  one  cabin. 
The  brothers  and  sisters  tried  to  persuade 
their  sister  to  return  with  them,  and,  if  she 
desired  it,  to  bring  her  children.  She  answered 
that  she  had  always  lived  with  the  Indians ; 
that  they  had  always  been  kind  to  her ;  that 
she  had  promised  her  late  husband,  on  his 
death-bed,  never  to  leave  them,  and  that  pro- 
mise she  was  resolved  to  keep.  The  three 
generous  relatives  then  retraced  their  steps, 
sorrowing  that  they  were  compelled  to  leave 
their  sister  in  the  wilderness. 

The  Indian  sister  died  in  1847.  Her  man- 
ners and  customs  were  those  of  the  Indians 
until  her  death,  yet  she  was  admired  alike 
by  the  red  and  white  men.  Her  grave  is  on  a 
beautiful  knoll,  near  the  confluence  of  the  Mis- 
sissiniwa  and  the  Wabash,  a  spot  which  had 
been  her  residence  for  nearly  thirty  years. 


PARENTAL  AFFECTION. 


TJRING  the  frequeut  wars 
between  the  Indians 
and  the  early  settlers 
of  JSTew  England,  the 
former  defeated  a 
party  of  English  sol- 
diers. Their  retreat 
was   without    order ; 

and  a  young  English  officer,  in  attempting  to 

■       (32) 


THE  ENGLISH  OFFICER. 


PARENTAL  AFFECTION.  35 

escape,  was  pursued  by  two  savages.  Find- 
ing escape  impracticable,  and  determined  to 
sell  his  life  as  dearly  as  possible,  lie  turned 
round  to  face  his  foes.  A  violent  struggle 
commenced,  and  he  must  have  fallen,  if  an 
old  chief  had  not  thrown  himself  between  the 
combatants.  The  red  men  instantly  retired 
with  respect.  The  old  man  took  the  young 
oflBcer  by  the  hand,  dispelled  his  fears,  and 
led  him  through  the  forest  to  his  wigwam, 
where  he  treated  him  with  the  greatest  kind- 
ness. He  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  the 
youth's  company ;  he  was  his  constant  com- 
panion ;  he  taught  him  his  language,  customs, 
and  arts.  Thoughts  of  home  would  sometimes 
haunt  the  young  Englishman.  At  these 
times,  Wanou  would  survey  his  young  friend 
attentively,  and  the  tears  would  fill  his 
eyes. 

^When  the  spring  returned,  the  war  was 
renewed,  and  Wanou,  whose  strength  was 
still  sufficient  to  bear  the  toils  of  war,  set  out 
with  the  rest  of  the  braves,  and  his  whit© 
prisoner. 


36  STOEIBS  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

When  the  Indians  arrived  in  sight  of  the 
English  camp,  Wanou  showed  the  young 
ofi&cer  his  countrymen,  observing  his  counte- 
nance the  while.  '*  There  are  thy  brethren," 
said  he,  "  waiting  to  fight  us.  Listen  to  me. 
I  have  saved  thy  life.  I  have  taught  thee  to 
make  a  canoe,  and  bow  and  arrows ;  to  hunt 
the  bear  and  the  buffalo ;  to  bring  down  the 
deer  at  full  speed,  and  to  outwit  even  the 
cunning  fox.  What  wast  thou  when  I  first 
led  thee  to  my  wigwam  ?  Thy  hands  were 
like  those  of  a  child  ;  they  served  neither  to 
support  nor  to  defend  thee ;  thou  wert  igno- 
rant, but  from  me  thou  hast  learned  every 
thing.  Wilt  thou  be  ungrateful,  and  raise  up 
thy  arm  against  the  red  man  ?" 

The  young  man  declared  with  warmth  that 
he  would  rather  lose  his  own  life  than  shed 
the  blood  of  his  Indian  friends.  The  old  war- 
rior covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  bow^pd 
his  head  and  remained  in  that  posture  for 
some  time,  as  if  overcome  by  some  painful 
recollection.  Then  with  a  strong  effort,  he 
said  to  the  young  man,  "  Hast  thou  a  father  ?" 


PAEENTAL  AFFECTION.  37 

"He  was  living,"  said  the  young  man, 
"  when  I  left  my  native  country." 

"  Oh !  how  fortunate  he  is  still  to  have  a 
son!"  cried  the  Indian;  and  then,  after  a 
moment's  silence,  he  added,  '**  Knowest  thou 
that  I  have  been  a  father ;  but  I  am  no  longer 
so  I  I  saw  my  son  fall  in  battle ;  he  fought 
bravely  by  my  side ;  my  son  fell  covered  with 
wounds,  and  he  died  like  a  man !  but  I  re- 
venged his  death;  yes,  I  revenged  his  death P* 
Wanou  pronounced  these  words  with  a  ter- 
rible vehemence ;  but  at  length  he  became 
calm,  and  turning  towards  the  east,  where 
the  sun  had  just  risen,  he  said,  "Young  man, 
thou  seest  that  glorious  light — does  it  afford 
thee  any  pleasure  to  behold  it  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  of&cer,  "I  never  look 
upon  the  rising  sun  without  pleasure,  or  with- 
out feeling  thankful  to  our  great  father  who 
created  it." 

*'  I  am  glad  thou  art  happy,  but  there  is 
no  more  pleasure  for  me,"  said  Wanou.  A 
moment  after,  he  showed  the  young  man  a 

4 


38 


STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


sbrub  in  full  bloom,  and  said,  "Hast  thou 
any  pleasure  in  beholding  this  plant  ?" 

"Yes,  great  pleasure,"  replied  the  young 
man. 

"  To  me,  it  can  no  longer  give  pleasure,'' 
said  the  old  man ;  and  then  embracing  the 
young  Englishman,  he  concluded  with  these 
words,  ''Begone!  hasten  to  thy  country,  that 
thy  father  may  still  have  pleasure  in  behold- 
ing the  rising  sun,  and  the  flowers  of  spring." 
Poor  chief;  the  death  of  his  beloved  son  had 
broken  his  heart. 


THE  INDIAN  CARRYING  OFF  M*DOUGAL  CHILD. 


^c^^^-^ 


THE  FKIENDLY  MANCEUYEB. 

ANY  years  ago,  a 
Scotcliman  and  his 
wife,  named  M'Dou- 
gall,  emigrated  to 
America.  Having  but 
very  little  money,  he 
purchased  some  land 
upon  the  verge  of 
civilization,  where  it 
was  sold  for  a  low  price.   By  great  exertions 

4*  (41) 


42  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

and  the  aid  of  his  neighbors,  M'Dougall  soon 
had  a  comfortable  farm,  well  stocked.  But 
the  inconvenience  of  distance  from  the  church, 
market,  and  mill,  were  felt,  and  caused  dis- 
content with  the  location. 

One  day,  while  the  farmer  was  away  at  the 
mill,  the  duty  of  driving  up  the  cows  to  milk 
devolved  on  the  wife,  and  that  thrifty  and 
industrious  woman  went  out  in  quest  of  them. 
Not  accustomed  to  going  far  from  the  house, 
she  wandered  through  the  woods,  got  bewil- 
dered, and  just  before  dark  sank  upon  the 
ground  in  despair.  An  Indian  hunter  soon 
came  along,  and  guessing  her  situation,  in- 
duced her  to  follow  him  to  his  wigwam,  where 
she  was  kindly  fed  and  lodged  for  the  night 
by  the  hunter's  wife. 

In  the  morning,  the  Indian  conducted  his 
guest  to  her  cattle,  and  thence  home.  M'Dou- 
gall, grateful  for  his  service,  presented  him 
with  a  suit  of  clothes,  and  invited  him  to  be- 
come his  frequent  visitor.  Three  days  after- 
wards he  returned,  and  endeavored,  partly  by 
signs,  and  partly  in  broken  English,  to  induce 


THE  FRIENDLY  MANCEUVRE.  43 

M'Dougall  to  follow  him ;  but  the  Scotchman 
refused.  Time  was  precious  to  him  who  owed 
all  his  comforts  to  hard  labor,  and  the  Indian 
repeated  his  entreaties  in  vain.  The  poor 
fellow  looked  grieved  and  disappointed ;  but 
a  moment  after,  a  sudden  thought  struck  him. 
Mrs.  M'Dougall  had  a  young  child,  which 
the  Indian's  quick  eye  had  not  failed  to  no- 
tice; and  finding  that  words  and  gestures 
would  not  persuade  his  Scotch  friend,  he  ap- 
proached the  cradle,  seized  the  child,  and 
darted  out  of  the  house  with  the  speed  of  the 
antelope.  The  father  and  mother  instantly 
followed,  calling  loudly  on  him  to  return ;  but 
he  had  no  such  intention.  He  led  them  on, 
now  slower,  now  faster,  occasionally  turning 
towards  them,  laughing  and  holding  up  the 
child  to  their  view.  After  proceeding  in  this 
manner  for  some  time,  the  Indian  halted  on 
the  margin  of  a  most  beautiful  prairie,  covered 
with  the  richest  vegetation,  and  extending 
over  several  thousand  acres.  In  a  moment 
after,  the  child  was  restored  to  its  parents, 
who,  wondering  at  such  strange  proceedings, 


44  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

stood  awhile  panting  for  breath.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  Indian  seemed  overjoyed  at 
the  success  of  his  manoQ^vre,  and  never  did  a 
human  being  frisk  about  and  gesticulate  with 
greater  animation. 

At  length  his  feelings  found  vent  in  broken 
English,  nearly  in  these  words : — "  You  think 
Indian  treacherous ;  you  think  him  wish 
steal  the  child.  JS'o,  no,  Indian  has  child  of 
his  own.  Indian  knew  you  long  ago;  saw 
you  when  you  not  see  him ;  saw  you  hard 
working  man.  Some  white  men  bad  and  hurt 
poor  Indian.  You  not  bad ;  you  work  hard 
for  your  wife  and  child ;  but  you  choose  bad 
place ;  you  never  make  rich  there.  Indian 
see  your  cattle  far  in  the  forest ;  think  you 
come  and  catch  them ;  you  not  come ;  your 
wife  come.  Indian  find  her  faint  and  weary ; 
take  her  home ;  wife  fear  go  in ;  think  Indian 
kill  her!  No,  no!  Indian  lead  her  back; 
meet  you  very  sad ;  then  very  glad  to  see 
her.  You  kind  to  Indian;  give  him  meat 
and  drink  and  better  clothes  than  your  own. 
Indian  grateful;  wish  you  come  here;  not 


THE  FRIENDLY  MANCEUVRE.  -$5 

come;  Indian  very  sorry;  take  the  child; 
know  you  follow  child;  if  Indian  farm,  In- 
dian farm  here.  Good  ground ;  not  many 
trees ;  make  road  in  less  than  half  a  moon ; 
Indian  help  you.  Indians  your  friends  ;  come, 
live  here." 

M'Dougall  instantly  saw  the  advantages  of 
the  change,  and  taking  the  red  man's  advice, 
the  day  was  soon  fixed  for  the  removal  of  his 
log-house,  along  with  the  rest  of  his  goods  and 
chattels ;  and  the  Indian,  true  to  his  word, 
brought  a  party  of  his  red  brethren  to  assist 
in  one  of  the  most  romantic  removals  that 
ever  took  place.  A  fertile  spot  was  selected 
in  the  "  garden  of  the  desert,"  a  fine  farm  soon 
smiled  around,  and  M'Dougall  had  no  cause 
to  regret  the  Indian's  friendly  manoeuvre. 


GRAND-SUN^. 


EAND-SUN  was  a  chief  of 
the  JN'atehez  tribe.  Sun 
was  a  common  name  for  all 
chiefs  of  that  nation;  this 
chief  was  particularly  dis- 
tinguished in  the  first  war 
with  the  French,  in  which  the  iN'atchez  en- 
gaged, and  the  title  of  Great-Sun  was  given 
him  by  his  people.  He  was  brave,  wise,  and 
generous,  and  a  friend  to  the  whites  until  the 
(46) 


THE  PARTING  OF  GIIAND-SUN  AND  GRIFFIN. 


GRAND-SUN.  49 

haughty  and  overbearing  disposition  of  one 
man  brought  ruin  upon  the  whole  colony. 
The  affair  occurred  in  1729. 

Grand-Sun  resided  in  the  beautiful  village 
called  White  Apple,  near  the  French  post  of 
iN'atchez,  the  commandant  of  which  was  M. 
Chopart.  This  officer  had  been  removed  from 
his  post  on  account  of  his  misconduct  and 
and  abominable  injustice  towards  the  Indians, 
but  had  been  reinstated,  and  his  conduct  had 
been  the  same  as  before.  He  projected  the 
building  an  elegant  village,  and  none  appeared 
to  suit  his  purpose  so  well  as  the  White  Ap- 
ple of  Grand-Sun.  He  sent  for  the  chief  to 
the  fort,  and  unhesitatingly  told  him  that  he 
must  give  up  his  village,  and  remove  else- 
where. Grand-Sun  stifled  his  surprise,  and 
replied,  "  that  his  ancestors  had  lived  in  that 
village  for  as  many  years  as  there  were  hairs 
in  his  double  queu,  and,  therefore,  it  was  good 
that  they  should  continue  there  still."  This 
was  interpreted  to  the  commandant,  and  he 
became  so  enraged,  that  he  threatened  Grand- 
Sun  with  punishment  if  he  did  not  comply. 

5 


50  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

A  council  of  the  Natchez  was  held.  They 
saw  that  all  was  hopeless,  unless  they  could 
rid  themselves  of  Chopart  by  some  stratagem. 
They  decided  to  attempt  it.  To  gain  time, 
an  offer  was  made  to  the  commandant,  of  tri- 
bute, in  case  he  should  permit  them  to  remain 
on  their  lands  until  harvest.  The  offer  was 
accepted,  and  the  Indians  matured  their  plan. 
Bundles  of  sticks  were  sent  to  the  neighbor- 
ing tribes,  and  their  meaning  explained. 
Each  bundle  contained  as  many  sticks  as 
days  before  the  massacre  of  the  French  at 
iN'atchez ;  and  that  no  mistake  should  arise 
in  regard  to  the  fixed  day,  every  morning  a 
stick  was  drawn  from  the  bundle  and  broken 
in  pieces,  and  the  day  of  the  last  stick  was 
that  of  the  execution. 

The  secret  was  confided  to  none  but  the 
older  warriors,  who  could  be  depended  upon. 
But  Grand-Sun  was  compelled  to  make  a 
great  sacrifice  of  private  feeling  in  revenging 
the  wrongs  of  his  countrymen.  He  had  won 
the  respect  and  esteem  of  several  of  the 
French  hunters  by  his  generosity  and  other 


GRAND-SUN.  51 

noble  qualities;  and  the  very  intimate  ac- 
quaintance of  one  of  them  in  particular.  This 
was  Armand  Griffin,  whose  family  resided  at 
Natchez,  while  he  engaged  in  the  laborious 
but  profitable  business  of  hunting.  Grand- 
Sun  and  Griffin  had  become  close  friends.  The 
hospitable  door  of  the  chief's  wigwam  was 
ever  oj)en  to  the  hunter,  and  the  latter  fre- 
quently visited  ,him,  Grand-Sun  had  in- 
structed him  in  all  the  mysteries  of  wood- 
craft, and  Griffin  being  naturally  of  a  daring 
and  restless  temper,  had  become  one  of  the 
boldest  and  best  hunters  in  that  part  of  the 
country.  In  return,  he  instructed  Grand-Sun 
in  many  of  the  arts  of  the  white  man,  and 
thus  mutual  services  strengthened  the  links 
of  friendship. 

When  Grand-Sun  had  matured  his  scheme 
of  revenge,  he  thought  of  the  situation  of 
Griffin's  family,  and  without  hinting  his  pur- 
pose, advised  the  hunter  to  remove  them  for 

« 

a  time.  But  he  either  would  not  or  could 
not,  disregarding  the  earnest  entreaties  of  the 
chief  to  that  effect.     As  the  appointed  day 


52  STOKIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

approached,  and  the  security  of  feeling  among 
the  French  promised  success  to  the  scheme 
of  massacre,  Grand-Sun  renewed  his  entrea- 
ties, but  still  without  daring  to  disclose  the 
secret  intent.  Grifi&n  not  only  said  that  his 
family  must  remain  at  the  post,  but  that  he 
himself  must  be  there  upon  the  day  which 
the  chief  knew  was  fixed  for  the  dreadful  re- 
venge. After  a  struggle  between  friendship 
and  patriotism,  the  chief  with  stoic  fortitude 
resolved  to  sacrifice  his  friend  rather  than 
disclose  his  scheme  and  thus  trust  to  the 
white  man's  faith  for  keeping  such  a  secret. 
About  sunset  the  day  before  the  massacre, 
Grifl&n  and  Grand-Sun,  who  had  been  out 
hunting  during  the  day,  arrived  at  the  verge 
of  the  village  of  White  Apple.  A  crowd  of 
red  men  were  assembled  'to  welcome  their 
great  chief.  The  friends  stopped  upon  an 
elevated  piece  of  ground  near  the  Indians. 
Grand-Sun  had  just  been  urging  upon  his 
friend  the  removal  of  his  family  from  the  fort. 
But  as  Grif&n  had  given  signs  of  beginning 
to  suspect  something  wrong,  he  suddenly 


GRAND-SUN.  53 

checked  his  persuasive  appeal  and  taking  his 
hand,  thus  bade  him  farewell  for  ever.    ' 

"■  White  man,  you  are  my  friend.  We  have 
eat,  slept,  and  hunted  together.  My  wigwam 
ever  welcomed  you,  and  you  repaid  me.  The 
belt  of  friendship  has  been  brighten  between 
us,  and  it  should  not  be  soiled.  The  great 
fire  of  day  is  fast  going  out,  and  you  must  re- 
turn to  your  pretty  wife  and  children.  When 
it  shall  again  be  kindled,  many  things  may 
be  done  which  may  part  us  for  ever.  Fare- 
well!" The  bold  hunter  was  affected  by  the 
manner  of  the  chief,  and  for  a  while  hung  his 
head  as  if  a  gloom  had  come  over  him.  But 
rousing  himself,  he  bade  the  chief  farewell, 
and  returned  to  the  post  at  N'atchez. 

Suspecting  what  he  should  have  suspected 
long  before,  Griffin,  as  soon  as  he  returned  to 
the  fort,  bade  his  wife  and  children  prepare 
themselves  for  leaving  the  place,  and  she 
complied,  with  many  questions  concerning 
the  reason  for  this  strange  movement.  Griffin 
could  not  exactly  say.  But  he  had  resolved 
to  leave  the  fort,  and  take  shelter  in  a  neigh- 

5* 


54  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

boring  Indian  village  belonging  to  the  Nat- 
cliez,  and  in  an  opposite  direction  from  White 
Apple.  Here  he  had  a  friend,  and  he  would 
feel  secure.     The  escape  was  accomplished. 

The  next  day  the  fort  was  surprised  and 
the  whole  body  of  the  French  within  the  fort 
and  its  neighborhood  were  massacred.  Grif&n 
and  his  family,  and  a  few  hunters  alone  es- 
caped, and  all  these  through  the  interposition 
of  Grand-Sun,  who  thus  remained  true  to 
friendship,  while  he  maintained  and  executed 
his  scheme  for  relieving  his  countrymen  from 
the  oppressor.  This  great  chief  not  long  af- 
terwards, was  taken  prisoner  by  a  French 
expedition  from  Louisiana,  his  people  almost 
annihilated,  and  he,  the  "last  of  his  line,'^ 
died  in  his  dungeon!  Griffin  ever  cherished 
his  memory,  and  exerted  himself  to  save  him, 
but  in  vain.     The  white  man  was  relentlest.. 


THE  COUNCIL  OF  VINCENNES. 


THE  PROPHET. 


TECUMSEH  AND  THE  PROPHET. 


T 


ECUMSEH,  (tli3 
Crouching  Pan- 
ther,) was  one  of  the 
greatest  chiefs  who 
ever  led  the  red  men 
to  battle.  He  was  by 
birth  a  Shawanee,  a 
tribe  which  has  ever  been  noted  for  its  aver- 

(57) 


58  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS, 

sion  to  the  ?s^hites.  He  was  born  about  1770, 
and  first  became  distinguished  in  1792,  when, 
at  the  head  of  a  small  band  of  warriors,  he 
surprised  and  murdered  a  party  of  whites 
upon  Hacker's  Creek.  From  that  time  he 
continued  to  acquire  a  reputation  for  all  the 
qualities,  which,  in  the  estimation  of  the  In- 
dians, make  up  a  great  leader. 

In  1809,  Governor  Harrison,  agreeably  to 
instructions  from  government,  purchased  of 
the  Delawares,  Miamis,  and  Shawanees,  the 
country  on  both  sides  of  the  Wabash,  and  ex- 
tending sixty  miles  above  Yincennes.  Te- 
cumseh  demurred  to  the  sale,  and  Harrison, 
wishing  to  conciliate  him,  appointed  the  12th 
day  of  August,  1810,  as  the  time,  and  Yin- 
cennes, as  the  place,  for  holding  a  council  to 
fettle  his  claims.  In  this  council,  Tecumseh 
delivered  a  speech,  which 'eloquently  unfolded 
his  views  of  the  aggressions  of  the  white 
men,  and  urged  that  the  sale  of  the  land  was 
invalid,  because  not  made  with  the  consent 
of  all  the  red  men  living  upon  it.  After  Te- 
cumseh had  concluded  his  speech,  and  was 


BATTLE  OF  TIPPECANOE. 


^ 


TECUMSEH  AND  THE  PROPHET.        61 

about  to  seat  himself,  he  observed  that  no 
chair  had  been  placed  for  him.  Harrison  im- 
mediately ordered  one,  and  as  the  interpreter 
handed  it  to  him,  he  said,  "Tour  father  re- 
quests you  to  take  a  chair."  ''My  father!" 
said  Tecumseh,  with  sublime  dignity,  "the 
sun  is  my  father,  and  the  earth  is  my  mother, 
and  on  her  bosom  will  I  repose ;"  and  imme- 
diately seated  himself  upon  the  ground. 
When  the  council  had  concluded,  Tecumseh 
expressed  his  intention  to  fight  rather  than 
yield  the  ground.  "  It  is  my  determination," 
said  he,  "  nor  will  I  give  rest  to  my  feet  until 
I  have  united  all  the  red  men  in  the  like 
resolution." 

The  threat  was  soon  executed.  The  active 
chief  visited  all  the  western  tribes  from  the 
Winnebagoes  to  the  Creeks,  and  made  use  of 
all  means  of  persuasion  to  unite  them,  with 
one  aim,  the  maintenance  of  their  country 
free  from  the  rule  of  the  white  man.  Super- 
stition is  mighty  among  the  red  men,  and 
Tecumseh  had  the  means  of  turning  it  to  his 
purpose.     His  brother,  the  well-known  Pro- 

6 


62  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

phet,  (Ellskwatawa,)  had  obtained  a  reputa- 
tion among  the  neighboring  Indians,  as  a 
medicine-man  and  conjurer.  He  announced 
that  the  Great  Spirit  had  conversed  with  him, 
and  commissioned  him  to  restore  the  red  men 
to  their  primitive  power.  The  Indians  be- 
lieved in  the  truth  of  the  commission,  and  the 
Prophet,  by  his  craft  and  eloquence  succeeded 
in  gaining  an  influence  among  them,  second 
only  to  that  of  his  great-spirited  brother.  A 
formidable  confederacy  was  soon  formed  of 
which  Tecumseh  was  the  head. 

The  battle  of  Tippecanoe  was  fought  on  the 
night  of  November  6, 1811,  in  which  sixty-two 
Americans  were  killed  and  one  hundred  and 
twenty-six  wounded.  The  Prophet  is  said  to 
have  conducted  the  attack,  but  did  not  ex- 
pose himself  to  danger.  The  vigilance  of 
Harrison,  and  the  bravery  of  his  men,  re- 
pulsed the  Indians,  inflicting  upon  them  a 
severe  loss.    Tecumseh  was  not  in  the  battle. 

When  the  war  broke  out  between  Great 
Britain  and  the  United  States,  Tecumseh 
seized  the  opportunity  to  join  the  British  ge- 


BATTLE  OF  THE  THAMES. 


TECUMSEH  AND  THE  PROPHET.       65 

neral  with  a  large  body  of  his  warriors.  He 
received  the  commission  of  brigadier-general 
in  the  British  army.  During  the  latter  part 
of  his  active  life,  he  was  under  the  direction 
of  General  Proctor ;  but  is  said  to  have  been 
greatly  dissatisfied  with  his  proceedings. 
After  Perry's  victory  on  Lake  Erie,  Proctor 
abandoned  Detroit,  and  retreated  up  the 
Thames,  pursued  by  General  Harrison,  with 
the  American  army.  Harrison  overtook  him 
near  the  Moravian  town,  on  the  5th  of  Octo- 
ber, 1813.  By  a  novel  manoeuvre,  ordered 
by  Harrison,  and  executed  by  Colonel  John- 
son, the  British  line  was  broken  and  put  to 
flight.  The  Indians,  commanded  by  Tecum- 
seh,  maintained  their  ground,  with  a  noble 
determination.  The  great  chief  fought  with 
desperation,  until  a  shot  in  the  head  from  an 
unknown  hand,  laid  him  dead  upon  the  field. 
His  warriors,  as  if  they  had  lost  their  spirit, 
then  fled,  leaving  about  one  hundred  and 
twenty  men  dead  upon  the  field. 

Tecumseh  was  about  forty-four  years  of  age 
when  he  fell.     He  was  about  five  feet  ten  in- 

6* 


66 


STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


TECUMSEH. 

ches  in  height,  and  of  a  noble  appearance* 
His  carriage  was  erect  and  lofty — his  motions 
quick — his  eyes  keen,  black,  and  piercing — 
his  visage  stern,  with  an  air  of  hauteur,  which 
expressed  his  pride  of  spirit.  He  is  said  to 
have  been  reserved  and  stern  in  his  manners. 
After  his  fall,  the  Indians  became  anxious  to 
secure  peace,  conyinced  that  their  cause  was 
hopeless.  The  Prophet  lost  their  confidence, 
and  sunk  into  insignificance. 


BURYING  THE  HATCHET. 


PLACE  D'ARMES,  MONTREAL. 


THE  DESTRUCTION  OF  MONTREAL. 

BOUT  1687,  the  Iroquois,  from 
some  neglect  on  tlie  part  of 
the  governor  of  New  York, 
were  induced  to  join  the 
French  interest;  and  in  a 
council  which  was  held  in  the  Iroquois  coun- 
try, the  hatchet  was  buried  and  a  treaty  con- 

(69) 


70  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

eluded,  by  which  the  Indians  promised  to  be- 
come the  firm  allies  of  the  French.  The  Di- 
nondadies,  a  tribe  of  the  Hurons,  were  con- 
sidered as  belonging  to  the  confederate  In- 
dians, but  from  some  cause  they  were  dissa- 
tisfied with  the  league  with  the  French,  and 
wished  by  some  exploit  to  indicate  that  they 
preferred  the  English  interest. 

Adaris,  nicknamed  by  the  French,  "the 
Eat,"  was  the  head  chief  of  the  Dinondadies, 
and  famous  for  his  courage  and  cunning.  He 
put  himself  at  the  head  of  one  hundred  war- 
riors, and  intercepted  the  ambassadors  of  the 
Five  JS'ations  at  one  of  the  falls  in  Hadarak- 
kin  river,  killing  some  and  taking  others  pri- 
soners. These  he  informed  that  the  French 
governor  had  told  him  that  fifty  warriors  of 
the  Five  Nations  were  coming  that  way  to 
attack  him.  They  were  astonished  at  the 
governor's  perfidiousness,  and  so  completely 
did  Adaris' s  plot  succeed,  that  these  ambas- 
sadors were  deceived  into  his  interest.  The 
Five  Nations  did  not  doubt  that  this  outrage 
upon  their  ambassadors  was  owing  to  the 


THE  DESTRUCTION  OF  MONTREAL.  71 

treachery  of  the  French  governor,  and  they 
immediately  formed  a  scheme  of  revenge,  the 
object  of  which  was  the  destruction  of  Montreal. 

At  that  time  the  island  of  Montreal  con- 
tained the  largest  and  most  flourishing  set- 
tlement in  Canada.  It  contained  about  fif- 
teen hundred  inhabitants,  and  many  flourish- 
ing plantations.  The  Indians  thought  that 
if  they  could  destroy  Montreal,  the  French 
power  in  Canada  might  easily  be  annihilated 
They  assembled  about  twelve  hundred  of  their 
bravest  warriors,  and  marched  for  the  banks 
of  the  St.  Lawrence,  with  great  secrecy  and 
rapidity.  The  time  fixed  for  the  attack  was 
the  26th  of  July,  1688,  when  the  harvest  was 
approaching. 

Just  before  day  break,  on  the  morning  of 
the  26th,  the  whole  body  of  the  Indians 
crossed  the  river,  and  advanced  towards  the 
settlement,  endeavoring  to  make  their  march 
as  secret  as  possible.  The  great  body  of  the 
French  settlers  were  reposing  in  security,  but 
here  and  there  an  early  and  industrious  far- 
mer was  abroad,  looking  after  his  farm  and 


72 


STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


BOULARD  DISCOVERING  THE  INDIANS. 


cattle.  One  of  these,  named  Boulard,  was 
tlie  first  to  discover  the  approach  of  the 
enemy.  He  was  walking  down  his  lane,  be- 
tween a  thicket  and  his  wheat-field,  when  he 
heard  a  strange  rustling  in  the  bushes,  at  a 
little  distance,  and  he  stopped  and  leaned 
against  a  fence  to  observe  what  caused  it. 
Boulard  had  not  waited  long  before  he 
caught  sight  of  the  form  of  two  or  three  red 
men  coming  through  the  wood,  and  he  was 
discovered  by  them  at  the  same  time.  As  one 
of  them  rushed  toward  him,  gun  in  hand,  he 
sprang  into  his  wheat-field  and  endeavored  to 


THE  DESTRUCTION  OF  MONTREAL. 


73 


BURNING  OF  MONTREAL. 


conceal  the  direction  he  took.  A  volley  of 
musketry  followed  him,  and  he  was  wounded, 
yet  he  kept  on,  fear  giving  him  extraordinary 
strength,  and  he  reached  the  house  of  a  neigh- 
bor. The  alarm  was  given ;  but  it  was  too 
late.  Twelve  hundred  red  men,  like  so  many 
bloodhounds,  were  let  loose  upon  unprepared 
settlers.  An  awful  silence  followed.  Houses 
were  burned,  plantations  destroyed  and  the 
inhabitants  butchered.     But  little  resistance 

7 


74  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

was  oflfered  to  the  Indians,  and  that  was  soon 
crushed.  About  four  hundred  persons  were 
killed  upon  the  spot,  and  the  Indians  retreated 
carrying  with  them  a  large  number  of  priso- 
ners, who  were  doomed  to  a  more  dreadful 
death.  The  loss  of  the  Indians  in  the  expe- 
dition was  trifling. 

The  destruction  of  Montreal  was  a  terrible 
blow  to  the  French,  and  it  was  so  well  fol- 
lowed up  by  the  powerful  Iroquois,  that  it  is 
thought,  if  the  Indians  had  been  acquainted 
with  the  art  of  attacking  fortified  places,  the 
enemy  would  have  been  forced  to  abandon 
Canada.  But  they  had  not  the  necessary 
knowledge ;  and  the  English  were  not  wise 
enough  to  supply  them  with  it.  The  French 
maintained  their  ground,  and  the  Iroquois 
were  afterwards  punished  for  their  unscru- 
pulous warfare. 


A  BUFFALO  HUNT. 


A  BUFFALO  HUNT. 

|HE  buffalo  hunt,  next  to  the  Indian 
battle,  is  the  most  intensely  ex- 
citing scene  which  may  be  wit- 
nessed among  the  wilds  of  the 
west.  To  the  buffalo,  the  Indian  looks  for 
food,  for  clothing,  and  for  religious  and  house- 
hold implements.     He  regards  the  hunting 

7*  (77) 


78  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

of  that  animal  not  only  as  a  pleasure,  but  a 
duty ;  and  when  once  it  is  rumored  through 
a  village  that  a  herd  of  buffalo  is  in  sight, 
their  warriors  who  have  faced  death  in  a  hun- 
dred forms,  bring  out  their  swiftest  horses, 
and  spring  upon  them ;  and  when  the  whole 
party  rush  across  the  field  eager  to  engage 
the  bellowing  herd,  a  scene  is  presented  for 
which  it  would  be  in  vain  to  look  for  a  parallel, 
even  among  the  cane-brakes  of  Africa,  or  the 
jungles  of  India. 

The  Indians  have  several  methods  of  at- 
tacking buffaloes.  The  most  exciting  as  well 
as  the  most  dangerous  one  is  that  in  which 
they  run  round  the  herd  for  the  purpose  of 
destroying  it.  The  hunters,  well-mounted 
with  bows  and  lances,  divide  themselves  into 
two  columns,  take  opposite  directions,  and  at 
the  distance  of  a  mile  or  two,  draw  gradually 
around  the  herd,  and  having  formed  a  circle, 
close  upon  their  prey  at  regular  distance,  On 
seeing  the  danger,  the  herd  run  in  the  oppo- 
site direction,  where  th^y  are  met  by  the 
other  party.     The  circle  is  gradually  closed, 


A  BUFFALO  HUNT.  79 

and  the  parties  unite.  By  this  time,  the  buf- 
faloes are  wheeling  about  in  a  crowded  and 
confused  mass,  wounding  and  climbing  upon 
each  other.  Then  their  destruction  com- 
mences. Galloping  round,  the  hunters  drive 
the  arrows  and  lances  to  the  hearts  of  their 
victims.  Sometimes,  the  animals,  furious 
from  their  wounds,  plunge  forward,  and  bear 
down  horse  and  rider,  goring  and  crushing 
the  former,  while  the  active  Indian  escapes. 
Sometimes  the  herd  divides  in  two,  and  the 
hunters,  blinded  by  clouds  of  dust,  are  wedged 
in  among  the  crowding  beasts,  when  their 
only  chance  of  escape  is  to  leap  over  the  backs 
of  the  herd,  leaving  the  horse  to  his  fate.  Oc- 
casionally, a  buffalo  selects  a  particular  horse- 
man, and  pursues  him  at  full  speed,  until, 
when  stooping  to  lift  the  horse  upon  his  horns, 
he  receives  in  the  side  the  warrior's  shaft. 
Some  of  the  Indians,  when  pursued,  throw 
their  buffalo  robe  over  the  horns  and  eyes  of 
the  furious  animal,  and,  dashing  by  its  side, 
drives  the  weapon  to  its  heart.  Others  dash 
off  upon  the  prairie,  in  pursuit  of  the  few 


80  STORIES  OP  THE  INDIANS. 

who  got  separated  from  the  herd.  In  a  few 
moments,  the  hunt  is  changed  into  a  despe- 
rate battle,  and  gradually  the  whole  mass  of 
buffaloes  sink  in  death. 

The  hunters  then  dismount  from  their 
horses,  and  claim  their  prey  by  drawing  the 
arrows  or  lances  from  the  sides  of  the  dead 
beasts,  and  showing  their  private  marks. 
Quarrels  are  generally  avoided  by  this  plan. 
After  all  the  animals  have  been  claimed,  the 
warriors  hold  a  council,  and  after  smoking  a 
few  pipes,  ride  into  the  village  and  announce 
the  result.  Of  course,  every  thing  there  is 
in  commotion,  and  soon  long  processions  of 
dogs  and  women  issue  forth,  skin  and  cut  up 
the  prey,  and  return  amid  loud  acclamations 
to  their  homes. 


O 

o 
<1 

I— « 
Q 


TEEATMENT  OF  INDIAN  CHILDKEK 


-^  HOSE  who  have  had  the  best 


opportunities  for  knowing 
the  real  character  of  the  In- 
dians, have  remarked,  among 
many  other  good  traits,  the 
^^^^^^^^  great  affection  they  have  for 
their  children,  and  the  respect  which  young 
people  pay,  not  only  to  their  parents,  but  to 
all  elderly  people. 

(83) 


84  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

Before  the  little  papoose  can  walk  alone, 
it  is  confined  in  a  cradle,  which  is  carried  on 
the  mother's  back  while  she  is  at  her  work, 
or  set  upright  against  the  wall,  or  a  tree. 
The  mother  teaches  her  children  how  to  make 
leggins,  moccasons,  and  many  other  things 
that  have  already  been  described  ;  and  if  she 
be  a  good  mother,  as  many  of  the  squaws  are, 
she  is  particular  in  keeping  her  daughters 
constantly  employed,  so  that  they  may  have 
the  reputation  of  being  industrious  girls, 
which  is  a  recommendation  to  the  young  men 
to  marry  them.  Corporal  punishment  is  sel- 
dom used  for  the  correction  of  children ;  but 
if  they  commit  any  fault,  it  is  common  for 
the  mother  to  blacken  their  faces,  and  send 
them  out  of  the  lodge.  Sometimes  they  are 
kept  a  whole  day  in  this  situation,  as  a  pu- 
nishment for  their  misconduct.  They  think 
that  corporal  punishment  breaks  the  spirit 
of  the  child,  and  in  this  they  appear  to  be 
wiser  than  their  white  brethren.  Parental 
love  should  persuade  and  guide  the  bold  of 
spirit,  not  destroy  their  courage. 


TREATMENT  OF  INDIAN  CHILDREN.  85 

When  the  boys  are  six  or  seven  years  of 
age,  a  small  bow  and  arrows  are  put  into 
their  hands,  and  they  are  sent  out  to  shoot 
birds  around  the  lodge  or  village ;  this  they 
continue  to  do  for  five  or  six  years,  and  then 
their  father  procures  for  them  short  guns,  and 
they  begin  to  hunt  ducks,  geese,  and  small 
game.  They  are  then  gradually  instructed 
in  the  whole  art  of  hunting,  and  lastly  of 
warfare. 

The  Indians  generally  appear  to  be  more 
afflicted  at  the  loss  of  an  infant,  or  young 
child,  than  at  that  of  a  person  of  mature 
years.  The  latter,  they  think,  can  provide 
for  himself  in  the  country  whither  he  has 
gone,  but  the  former  is  too  young  to  do  so. 
The  men  appear  ashamed  to  show  any  signs 
of  grief,  at  the  loss  of  any  relation,  however 
dear  he  might  have  been  to  them ;  but  the 
women  do  not  conceal  their  feelings ;  and  on 
the  loss  of  either  husband  or  child,  they  cui 
off  their  hair,  disfigure  their  face  and  limbs 
with  black  paint,  and  even  with  cuts,  and  burn 
all  their  clothes  except  a  few  miserable  rags. 

8 


MES.  HANSON  AND  HER  CHILDREN. 


HE  colonists  of  New  England, 
and  especially  of  New  Hamp- 
shire, were  rarely  free  from 
apprehension  of  attack  from 
their  savage  neighbors.  A  de- 
sultory warfare  was  carried  on,  even  when 
treaties  seemed  to  have  secured  peace.  Houses 
were  burned,  farms,  teeming  with  the  fruits 
of  toil,  destroved,  and  the  inhabitants  either 
(86) 


MRS.  HANSON  AND  HER  CHILDREN. 


i 


MRS.  HANSON  AND  HER  CHILDREN.  89 

murdered  or  made  captive.  Many  instances 
are  recorded,  of  suffering  and  torture  inflicted 
upon  families,  which  have  been  thus  attacked. 
One  of  the  most  remarkable  has  been  pre- 
served in  the  words  of  one  of  the  victims,  Mrs. 
Elizabeth  Hanson. 

On  the  27th  of  June,  1724,  a  party  of  In- 
dians were  discovered  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  house  of  John  Hanson,  in  Dover  township, 
New  Hampshire.  They  had  been  lurking  in 
the  fields  several  days,  watching  their  oppor- 
tunity, when  Mr.  Hanson  and  his  men  should 
be  out  of  the  way.  At  the  favorable  moment, 
thirteen  Indians,  all  naked,  and  armed  with 
tomahawks  and  guns,  rushed  into  the  house, 
killing  one  child  as  soon  as  they  entered  the 
door.  The  leader  came  up  to  Mrs.  Hanson, 
but  gave  her  quarter.  At  the  time  of  the 
attack,  she  had  a  servant  and  six  children. 
Two  of  the  little  ones  were  at  play  in  the  or- 
chard, and  the  youngest  child,  only  fourteen 
days  old,  was  in  the  cradle. 

The  Indians  set  about  rifling  the  house, 
fearing  to  be  interrupted  by  the  return  of  some 

8* 


90  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

of  the  men,  and  packed  up  every  thing  that 
pleased  them,  and  which  they  could  conve- 
niently carry.  The  two  children  running  in 
from  the  orchard,  the  Indians  killed  one  to 
prevent  its  shrieking,  and  gave  the  other  to 
the  mother.  The  dead  children  were  scalped, 
and  the  mother,  the  servant,  and  the  remain- 
ing children,  were  taken  hastily  from  the 
house.  Mrs.  Hanson  was  weak,  yet  she  had 
no  alternative  but  to  go,  or  die,  and  her  child- 
ren were  frightened  into  silence.  After  wading 
through  several  swamps,  and  some  brooks, 
and  carefully  avoiding  every  thing  like  a  road, 
the  party  halted  at  night-fall,  about  ten  miles 
from  Mrs.  Hanson's  house.  A  fire  was  lighted, 
and  a  watch  set,  while  the  rest  of  the  party 
sought  repose. 

Just  as  the  day  appeared,  the  Indians  were 
awake,  and,  with  their  captives,  set  out  again 
and  travelled  very  hard  all  that  day  through 
swamps  and  woods  without  a  path.  At  night 
all  lodged  upon  the  cold  ground,  wet  and 
weary.  Thus  for  twenty-six  days,  day  by 
day,    the    party  tr£|.velled,  over   mountains, 


MRS.  HANSON  AND  HER  CHILDREN.  91 

througli  tangled  thickets,  and  across  rivers 
and  swamps,  sometimes  without  any  food  but 
pieces  of  beaver  skin,  and  enduring  hardships, 
to  which  the  Indians  were  accustomed,  but 
which  the  poor  captives  could  scarcely  bear. 

At  the  end  of  twenty-six  days,  the  party 
reached  the  borders  of  Canada,  and  as  they 
were  compelled  to  separate,  the  captive  family 
was  divided  between  them.  This  was  a  sore 
parting,  but  the  mother  had  become  resigned 
to  her  fate,  and  taught  her  children  by  ex- 
ample how  to  suffer.  The  eldest  daughter, 
about  sixteen  years  of  age,  was  first  taken 
away,  and  soon  after,  the  second  daughter 
and  the  servant,  at  that  time  very  weak  for 
want  of  food,  were  divided  between  Indians 
going  to  different  parts  of  the  country.  The 
mother,  her  babe  and  little  boy  remained  with 
the  chief,  and  soon  arrived  at  his  village. 

The  captives  were  now  well  provided  with 
food,  but  were  compelled  to  sleep  upon  the 
cold  ground  in  a  wigwam.  As  the  wigwam 
was  often  removed  from  place  to  place  for 
the  convenience  of  hunting,  and  the  winter 


92  iSTOKIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

was  approaching,  the  lodging  became  disa- 
greeable, and  the  small  children  suffered  se- 
verely. When  the  chief  arrived  at  the  In- 
dian fort,  he  was  received  with  great  rejoicing, 
and  every  savage  manifestation  of  respect. 
The  shouting,  drinking,  feasting,  and  firing 
of  guns  continued  several  days. 

The  chief  had  not  long  been  at  home,  be- 
fore he  went  out  on  a  hunting  excursion,  and 
was  absent  about  a  week.  Mrs.  Hanson  was 
left  in  his  wigwam,  and  ordered  to  get  in 
woodj  gather  nuts,  &c.  She  diligently  per- 
formed what  she  had  been  commanded ;  but 
when  the  chief  returned,  he  was  in  an  ill- 
humor  ;  not  .having  found  any  game.  He 
vented  his  spleen  upon  the  poor  captives,  of 
course.  Mrs.  Hanson  was  roughly  treated, 
and  her  son  knocked  down.  She  did  not  dare 
to  murmur,  however,  fearing  his  anger. 

The  squaw  and  her  daughter,  sympathized 
with  the  captives,  informed  them  that  the 
chief  was  anxious  now  to  put  them  to  death, 
and  that  they  must  sleep  in  another  wigwam 
that  night.     During  the  night  Mrs.  Hanson 


MRS.  HANSON  AND  HER  CHILDREN.  93 

slept  very  little,  being  in  momentary  expec- 
tation that  the  chief  would  come  to  execute 
bis  threat.  But  the  chief,  weary  with  hunt- 
ing, went  to  rest  and  forgot  it.  The  next 
morning  he  went  out  hunting  again,  and  re- 
turned with  some  wild  ducks.  He  was  then 
in  a  better  humor,  and  all  had  plenty  to  eat. 
The  same  state  of  things  occurred  very  fre- 
quently, and  Mrs.  Hanson  was  in  constant 
fear  of  death.  Sometimes  she  suffered  much 
from  want  of  food. 

By  this  time,  hard  labor,  mean  diet^  and 
want  of  natural  rest,  had  reduced  Mrs.  Han- 
son so  low,  that  her  milk  was  dried  up,  and 
her  babe  thin  and  weak.  By  the  advice  of 
an  Indian  squaw,  she  made  some  nourishing 
broth  for  her  babe,  by  broiling  some  kernels 
of  walnuts,  and  mixing  them  with  water  and 
Indian  meal.  But  her  joy  at  the  success  of 
this  invention  was  clouded  by  the  action  of 
the  chief.  Observing  the  thriving  condition 
of  the  child,  he  made  the  mother  undress  it, 
and  told  her  he  intended  to  eat  it  as  soon  as 
it  was  fat  enough.     This  was  a  terrible  blow 


94  STOKIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

to  the  hopes  which  Mrs.  Hanson  had  begun 
to  conceive,  and  his  cruel  treatment  of  her 
and  her  children  was  aggravated  every  day, 
till,  at  length,  he  fell  violently  ill,  and  for  a 
time  lingered  on  the  brink  of  death.  He 
thought  that  this  was  a  judgment  of  God  upon 
him  for  his  cruelty,  and  he  professed  repent- 
ance. After  this  he  soon  recovered,  and  the 
captives  were  better  treated. 

The  chief,  a  few  weeks  after  his  recovery, 
made  another  remove,  journeying  two  days 
upon  the  ice,  while  the  snow  was  falling. 
Mrs.  Hanson  soon  perceived  the  object  of  his 
journey.  The  chief,  with  the  hope  of  obtain- 
ing a  ransom  for  his  captives,  wished  to  get 
nearer  to  the  French.  He  visited  the  latter, 
but  returned  in  a  very  bad  humor.  Mrs. 
.Hanson  was  compelled  to  lodge  in  a  sort  of 
hole  made  in  the  snow,  and  covered  with 
boughs,  in  order  to  keep  from  his  presence. 

At  length  the  captives  were  taken  to  the 
French,  and  after  some  trouble  and  delay, 
ransomed  for  six  hundred  livres.  They  were 
treated  very  kindly  and  furnished  with  all 


MRS.  HANSON  AND  HER  CHILDREN.  95 

those  things  of  whicli  they  had  been  so  long 
destitute.  One  month  after  they  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  French,  Mr.  Hanson  came 
to  them  with  the  hope  of  ransoming  the  other 
children  and  servant.  With  much  difficulty 
he  recovered  his  younger  daughter,  but  the 
eldest  was  retained  by  the  squaw  to  whom 
she  had  been  given,  as  she  intended  to  marry 
her  to  her  son.  JSTo  means  could  induce  the 
squaw  to  surrender  the  daughter,  and  the 
party  were  forced  to  return  without  her.  The 
servant  was  ransomed.  On  the  1st  of  July, 
1725,  the  parfy  arrived  home,  having  been 
among  the  Indians  and  French  more  than 
twelve  months,  and,  having  suffered  every 
hardship  which  the  captive  of  the  Indian 
generally  endures. 

Mr.  Hanson  could  not  rest  while  his 
daughter  remained  in  the  hands  of  the  In- 
dians, and  he  resolved  to  make  another  at- 
tempt to  ransom  her.  On  the  19th  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1727,  he  set  out  on  his  journey,  but 
died  on  the  way,  between  Albany  and  Canada. 
In  the  meantime,  a  young  Frenchman  inter- 


96 


STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


posed,  and  by  marrying  the  daughter  himself, 
secured  her  freedom;  the  Indians  acknow- 
ledging the  freedom  of  their  captives  as  soon 
as  married  by  the  French.  The  daughter  re- 
turned to  her  anxious  and  suffering  mother 
and  sisters,  and  thus  gave  them  some  conso- 
lation for  the  loss  of  Mr.  Hanson. 


SHON-KA. 


SHON-KA. 


THE  STORY  OF  SHOJST-KA. 


R.  CATLIN  met  with  many  in- 
teresting adventures,  while 
visiting  the  numerous  and 
savage  tribes  of  the  great 
west,  for  the  purpose  of  seeing 
and  judging  for  himself,  of  their  habits  and 
modes  of  life.  One  of  these  he  details  in  his 
valuable  work,  as   "The  Story  of  the  Dog," 

(99) 


100  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

and  as  it  is  a  fine  illustration  of  the  dangers 
encountered  by  adventurers  among  the  In- 
dians, and  of  the  certainty  of  revenge  which 
follows  an  injury,  we  here  insert  it. 

I  had  passed  up  the  Missouri  river,  on  the 
steamboat  Yellow  Stone,  on  which  I  ascended 
the  Missouri  to  the  mouth  of  Yellow  Stone 
river.  "While  going  up,  this  boat,  having  on 
board  the  United  States  Indian  agent,  Major 
Sanford — Messrs.  Pierre,  Chouteau,  McKenzie 
of  the  American  Fur  Company,  and  myself, 
as  passengers,  stopped  at  this  trading-post, 
and  remained  several  weeks ;  where  were  as- 
sembled six  hundred  families  of  Sioux  In- 
dians, their  tents  being  pitched  in  close  order 
on  an  extensive  prairie  on  the  bank  of  the 
river. 

This  trading-post,  in  charge  of  Mr.  Laidlaw, 
is  the  concentrating  place,  and  principal 
depot,  for  this  powerful  tribe,  who  number, 
when  all  taken  together,  something  like  forty 
or  fifty  thousand.  On  this  occasion,  five  or 
six  thousand  had  assembled  to  see  the  steam- 
boat, and  meet  the  Indian  agent,  which,  and 


THE  STORY  OF  SHON-KA.  101 

whom  they  knew  were  to  arrive  about  this 
time.  During  the  few  weeks  that  we  re- 
mained there,  I  was  busily  engaged  painting 
my  portraits,  for  here  were  assembled  the 
principal  chiefs  and  medicine-men  of  the  na- 
tion. To  these  people,  the  operations  of  my 
brush  were  entirely  new  and  unaccountable, 
and  excited  amongst  them  the  greatest  curi- 
osity imaginable.  Every  thing  else,  even  the 
steamboat,  was  abandoned  for  the  pleasure 
of  crowding  into  my  painting-room,  and  wit- 
nessing the  result  of  each  fellow's  success,  as 
he  came  out  from  under  the  operation  of  my 
brush. 

They  had  been  at  first  much  afraid  of  the 
consequences  that  might  flow  from  so  strange 
and  unaccountable  an  operation ;  but  having 
been  made  to  understand  my  views,  they  be- 
gan to  look  upon  it  as  a  great  honor,  and  af- 
forded me  the  opportunities  that  I  desired ; 
exhibiting  the  utmost  degree  of  vanity  for 
their  appearance,  both  as  to  features  and 
dress.  The  consequence  was,  that  my  room 
was  filled  with  the  chiefs  who  sat  around,  ar- 

9* 


102  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

ranged  according  to  the  rank  or  grade  which 
they  held  in  the  estimation  of  their  tribe ; 
and  in  this  order  it  became  necessary  for  me 
to  paint  them,  to  the  exclusion  of  those  who 
never  signalized  themselves,  and  were  with- 
out any  distinguishing  character  in  society. 

The  first  man  on  the  list,  was  Ha-wan-ghee- 
ta,  (one  horn,)  head  chief  of  the  nation,  and 
after  him  the  subordinate  chief,  or  chiefs  of 
bands,  according  to  the  estimation  in  which 
they  were  held  by  the  chief  or  tribe.  My 
models  were  thus  placed  before  me,  whether 
ugly  or  beautiful,  all  the  same,  and  I  saw  at 
once  there  was  to  be  trouble  somewhere,  as  I 
could  not  paint  them  all.  The  medicine-men 
or  high  priests,  who  are  esteemed  by  many 
the  oracles  of  the  nation,  and  the  most  im- 
portant men  in  it — becoming  jealous,  com- 
menced their  harangues,  outside  of  the  lodge, 
telling  them  that  they  were  all  fools — that 
those  who  were  painted  would  soon  die  in 
consequence ;  and  that  these  pictures,  which 
had  life  to  a  considerable  degree  in  them, 
would  live  in  the  hands  of  white  men  after 


THE  STORY  OF  SHON-KA.  103 

they  were  dead,  and  make  them  sleepless  and 
endless  trouble. 

Those  whom  I  had  painted,  though  evi- 
dently somewhat  alarmed,  were  unwilling  to 
acknowledge  it,  and  those  whom  I  had  not 
painted,  unwilling  to  be  outdone  in  courage, 
allowed  me  the  privilege ;  braving  and  defy- 
ing the  danger  that  they  were  evidently  more 
or  less  in  dread  of.  Feuds  began  to  arise 
too,  among  some  of  the  chiefs  of  the  differ- 
ent bands,  who,  (not  unlike  some  instances 
among  the  chiefs  and  warriors  of  our  own 
country,)  had  looked  upon  their  rival  chiefs 
with  unsleeping  jealousy,  until  it  had  grown 
into  disrespect  and  enmity.  An  instance  of 
this  kind  presented  itself  at  this  critical 
juncture,  in  this  assembly  of  inflammable 
spirits,  which  changed  in  a  moment,  its  fea- 
tures, from  the  free  and  jocular  garrulity  of 
an  Indian  leyee,  to  the  frightful  yells  and 
agitated  treads  and  starts  of  an  Indian  battle. 
I  had  in  progress  at  this  time,  a  portrait  of 
Mah-to-tchee-ga,  (little  bear;)  of  the  One-pa- 
pa band,  a  noble  fine  fellow,  who  was  sitting 


104  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

before  me  as  I  was  painting.  I  was  painting 
almost  a  profile  view  of  his  face,  throwing  a 
part  of  it  into  shadow,  and  had  it  nearly- 
finished,  when  an  Indian  by  the  name  of 
Shon-ka,  (the  dog,)  chief  of  the  Caz-a-zshee-ta 
band,  an  ill-natured  and  surly  man — de- 
spised by  the  chiefs  of  every  other  band,  en- 
tered the  wigwam  in  a  sullen  mood,  and  seated 
himself  on  the  floor  in  front  of  my  sitter,  where 
he  could  have  a  full  view  of  the  picture  in  its 
operation.  After  sitting  a  while  with  his 
arms  folded,  and  his  lips  stifly  arched  with 
contempt,  he  sneeringly  spoke  thus : 
"  Mah-to-tchee-ga  is  but  half  a  man." 
Dead  silence  ensued  for  a  moment,  and 
nought  was  in  motion  save  the  eyes  of  the 
chiefs,  who  were  seated  around  the  room,  and 
darting  their  glances  about  upon  each  other 
in  listless  anxiety  to  hear  the  sequel  that  was 
to  follow !  During  this  interval,  the  eyes  of 
Mah-to-tchee-ga  had  not  moved — his.  lips  be- 
came slightly  curved,  and  he  pleasantly  asked 
in  low  and  steady  accent,  "Who  says  that?" 
*'  Shon-ka  says  it,"  was  the  reply,  "  and  Shon- 


THE  STORY  OF  SHON-KA.  105 

ka  can  prove  it.'^  At  this  the  eyes  of  Mah- 
to-tchee-ga,  which  had  not  yet  moved,  began 
steadily  to  turn,  and  slow,  as  if  upon  pivots, 
and  when  they  were  rolled  out  of  their  sockets 
till  they  had  fixed  upon  the  object  of  their 
contempt ;  his  dark  and  jutting  brows  were 
shoving  down  in  trembling  contention,  with 
the  blazing  rays  that  were  actually  burning 
with  contempt,  the  object  that  was  before 
them.     ''Why  does  Shon-ka  say  it?" 

"Ask  We-chash-a-wa-kon,  (the  painter,) 
he  can  tell  you ;  he  knows  you  are  but  half  a 
man — he  has  painted  but  one  half  of  your 
face,  and  knows  the  other  half  is  good  for 
nothing!" 

"  Let  the  painter  say  it,  and  I  will  believe 
it ;  but  when  the  Dog  says  it  let  him  prove  it." 

"Shon-ka  has  said  it,  and  Shon-ka  can 
prove  it ;  if  Mah-to-tchee-ga  be  a  man,  and 
wants  to  be  honored  by  the  white  men,  let 
him  not  be  ashamed ;  but  let  him  do  as  Shon- 
ka  has  done,  give  the  white  man  a  horse,  and 
then  let  him  see  the  whole  of  your  face  with- 
out being  ashamed." 


106  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

**  When  Mah-to-tchee-ga  kills  a  white  man 
and  steals  his  horses,  he  may  be  ashamed  tc 
look  at  a  white  man  until  he  brings  him  a 
horse !  When  Mah-to-tchee-ga  waylays  and 
murders  an  honorable  and  brave  Sioux,  be- 
cause he  is  a  coward  and  not  brave  enough  to 
meet  him  in  fair  combat,  then  he  may  be 
ashamed  to  look  at  a  white  man  till  he  has 
given  him  a  horse  I  Mah-to-tchee-ga  can  look 
at  any  one ;  and  he  is  now  looking  at  an  old 
woman  and  a  coward!" 

This  repartee,  which  had  lasted  for  a  few 
minutes,  to  the  amusement  and  excitement 
of  the  chiefs,  being  thus  ended:  The  Dog 
suddenly  rose  from  the  ground,  and  wrapping 
himself  in  his  robe,  left  the  wigwam,  consi- 
derably agitated,  having  the  laugh  of  all  the 
chiefs  upon  him. 

The  Little  Bear  had  followed  him  with  his 
piercing  eyes  until  he  left  the  door,  and  then 
pleasantly  and  unmoved,  resumed  his  posi- 
tion, where  he  sat  a  few  minutes  longer,  until 
the  portrait  was  completed.  He  then  rose, 
and  in  a  most  graceful  and  gentlemanly  man^ 


THE  STORY  OF  SHON-KA.  10 T 

ner,  presented  to  me  a  very  beautiful  shirt  of 
buckskin,  richly  garnished  with  quills  of  por- 
cupine, wringed  with  scalp-locks  (honorable 
memorials)  from  his  enemies'  heads,  and 
painted,  with  all  his  battles  emblazoned  on 
it.  He  then  left  my  wigwam,  and  a  few  steps 
brought  him  to  the  door  of  his  own,  where 
the  Dog  intercepted  him,  and  asked,  **  "What 
meant  Mah-to-tchee-ga,  by  the  last  words  that 
he  spoke  to  Shon-ka?"  "  Mah-to-tchee-ga  said 
it,  and  Shon-ka  is  not  a  fool — that  is  enough." 
At  this  the  Dog  walked  violently  to  his  own 
lodge ;  and  the  Little  Bear  retreated  into  his, 
both  knowing  from  looks  and  gestures  what 
was  about  to  be  the  consequence  of  their 
altercation. 

The  Little  Bear  instantly  charged  his  gun, 
and  then,  as  their  custom  is,  threw  himself 
upon  his  face,  in  humble  supplication  to  the 
Great  Spirit  for  his  aid  and  protection.  His 
wife,  in  the  meantime,  seeing  him  agitated, 
and  fearing  some  evil  consequences,  without 
knowing  any  thing  of  the  preliminaries,  se- 


108  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

cretly  withdrew  the  bullet  from  the  gun,  and 
told  him  not  of  it. 

The   Dog's  voice,    at    this   moment,   was 

heard,  and  recognized  at  the  door  of  Mah-to- 

^hee-ga's  lodge,    "  If  Mah-to-tchee-ga  be   a 

whole  man,  let  him  come  out  and  prove  it ; 

it  is  Shon-ka  that  calls  him  I" 

His  wife  screamed;  but  it  was  too  late. 
The  gun  was  in  his  hand,  and  he  sprang  out 
of  the  door — both  drew  and  simultaneously 
fired.  The  Dog  fled  uninjured ;  but  the  Little 
Bear  lay  weltering  in  his  blood  (strange  to 
say !)  with  all  that  side  of  his  face  shot  away, 
which  had  been  left  out  of  the  picture ;  and, 
according  to  the  prediction  of  the  Dog,  "  good 
for  nothing ;"  carrying  away  one  half  of  the 
jaws,  and  the  flesh  from  the  nostrils  and  cor- 
ner of  the  mouth,  to  the  ear,  including  one 
eye,  and  leaving  the  jugular  vein  entirely  ex- 
posed. Here  was  a  "coup;"  and  any  one 
accustomed  to  the  thrilling  excitement  that 
such  things  produce  in  an  Indian  village,  can 
form  some  idea  of  the  frightful  agitation 
amidst  several  thousand  Indians,  who  were 


THE  STORY  OF  SHON-KA.  109 

diYided  into  jealous  bands  or  clans,  under 
ambitious  and  rival  chiefs !  In  one  minute  a 
thousand  guns  and  bows  were  seized!  A 
thousand  thrilling  yells  were  raised ;  and 
many  were  the  fierce  and  darting  warriors 
who  sallied  round  the  Bog  for  his  protection — 
he  fled  amidst  a  shower  of  bullets  and  arrows ; 
but  his  braves  were  about  him !  The  blood 
of  the  Onc-pa-pas  was  roused,  and  the  indig- 
nant braves  of  that  gallant  band  rushed  forth 
from  all  quarters,  and,  swift  upon  their  heels, 
were  hot  for  vengeance !  On  the  plain,  and 
in  full  view  of  us,  for  some  time,  the  whizzing 
arrows  flew,  and  so  did  bullets,  until  the  Dog 
and  his  brave  followers  were  lost  in  distance 
on  the  prairie !  In  this  rencontre,  the  Dog 
had  his  arm  broken ;  but  succeeded,  at  length, 
in  making  his  escape.   ' 

On  the  next  day  after  this  affair  took  place, 
Little  Bear  died  of  his  wound,  and  was  buried 
amidst  the  most  pitiful  and  heart-rending 
cries  of  his  distracted  wife,  whose  grief  was 
inconsolable  at  the  thought  of  having  been 
herself  the  immediate  and  innocent  cause  of 

10 


110  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS* 

his  death,  by  depriving  him  of  his  supposed 
protection. 

This  marvellous  and  fatal  transaction  was 
soon  talked  through  the  village,  and  the  eyes 
of  all  this  superstitious  multitude  were  fixed 
on  me  as  the  cause  of  the  calamity — my  paint- 
ings and  brushes  were  instantly  packed,  and 
all  hands.  Traders  and  Travellers,  assumed 
at  once  a  posture  of  defence. 

I  evaded,  no  doubt,  in  a  great  measure,  the 
concentration  of  their  immediate  censure 
upon  me,  by  expressions  of  great  condolence, 
and  by  distributing  liberal  presents  to  the 
wife  and  relations  of  the  deceased;  and  by 
uniting  also  with  Mr.  Laidlaw  and  the  other 
gentlemen,  in  giving  him  honorable  burial, 
where  we  placed  over  his  grave  a  handsome 
Sioux  lodge,  and  hung  a  white  flag  to  wave 
over  it. 

On  this  occasion  many  were  the  tears  that 
were  shed  for  the  brave  and  honorable  Mah- 
to-tchee-ga,  and  all  the  warriors  of  his  band 
swore  sleepless  vengeance  on  the  Dog,  until 
his  life  should  answer  for  the  loss  of  their  chief. 


THE  STORY  OF  SHON-KA,  111 

On  the  day  that  he  was  buried,  I  started 
for  the  mouth  of  the  Yellow  Stone,  and  while 
I  was  gone,  the  spirit  of  vengeance  had  per- 
vaded nearly  all  the  Sioux  country  in  search 
of  the  Dog,  who  had  evaded  pursuit.  His 
brother,  however,  a  noble  and  honorable  fel- 
low, esteemed  by  all  who  knew  him,  fell  in 
their  way  in  an  unlucky  hour,  when  their 
thirst  for  vengeance  was  irresistible,  and  they 
slew  him.  Kepentance  deep,  and  grief  were 
the  result  of  this  rash  act,  when  they  beheld 
a  brave  and  worthy  man  fall  for  so  worthless 
a  character ;  and  as  they  became  exasperated, 
the  spirit  of  revenge  grew  more  desperate 
than  ever,  and  they  swore  they  never  would 
lay  down  their  arms  or  embrace  their  wives 
and  children  until  vengeance,  full  and  com- 
plete, should  light  upon  the  head  that  deserved 
it.  This  brings  us  again  to  the  first  part  of 
my  story,  and  in  this  state  were  things  in 
that  part  of  the  country,  when  I  was  descend- 
ing the  river,  four  months  afterwards,  and 
landed  my  canoe,  as  I  before  stated,  at  Laid* 
law's  trading-post. 


112  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

The  excitement  had  been  kept  up  all  sum- 
mer among  these  people,  and  their  supersti- 
tions bloated  to  the  full  brim,  from  circum- 
stances so  well  calculated  to  feed  and  increase 
them.  Many  of  them  looked  at  me  at  once 
as  the  author  of  all  these  disasters,  consider- 
ing I  knew  that  one  half  of  the  man's  face 
was  good  for  nothing,  or  that  I  would  not  have 
left  it  out  of  the  picture,  and  that  I  must  have 
foreknown  the  evils  that  were  to  flow  from 
the  omission ;  they  consequently  resolved 
that  I  was  a  dangerous  man,  and  should  suf- 
fer for  my  temerity  in  case  the  Dog  could  not 
be  found.  Councils  had  been  held,  and  in  all 
the  solemnity  of  Indian  medicine  and  mystery, 
I  had  been  doomed  to  die !  At  one  of  these, 
a  young  warrior  of  the  Onc-pa-pa  band,  arose 
and  said,  "  The  blood  of  two  chiefs  has  been 
sunk  into  the  ground,  and  a  hundred  bows 
are  bent  which  are'  ready  to  shed  more  !  on 
whom  shall  we  bend  them  ?  I  am  a  friend 
to  the  white  man,  but  here  is  one  whose  me- 
dicine is  too  great — he  is  a  great  medicine- 
man !  his  medicine  is  too  great !  he  was  the 


THE  STORY  OF  SHON-KA.  113 

death  of  Mah-to-tchee-ga  I  he  made  only  one 
side  of  his  face !  he  would  not  make  the  other — 
the  side  that  he  made  was  alive ;  the  other 
was  dead,  and  Shon-ka  shot  it  off!  How  is 
this?    Who  is  to  die?" 

After  him,  Tah-zee-kee-da-cha  (torn  belly,) 
of  the  Yankton  band,  arose,  and  said,  "  Fa- 
ther, this  medicine-man  has  done  much  harm  I 
Tou  told  our  chiefs  and  warriors,  that  they 
must  be  painted — you  said  he  was  a  good 
man,  and  we  believed  you !  you  thought  so, 
my  father,  but  you  see  what  he  has  done ! — 
he  looks  at  our  chiefs  and  our  women  and 
then  makes  them  alive ! !  In  this  way  he  has 
taken  our  chiefs  away,  and  he  can  trouble 
their  spirits  when  they  are  dead ! — they  will 
be  unhappy.  If  he  can  make  them  alive  by 
looking  at  them,  he  can  do  us  much  harm ! — 
you  tell  us  that  they  are  not  alive — we  see  their 
eyes  move ! — their  eyes  follow  us  wherever  we 
go,  that  is  enough !  I  have  no  more  to  say!" 
After  him  arose  a  young  man  of  the  One-pa- 
pa band.  "Father!  you  know  that  I  am  the 
brother  of  Mah-to-tchee-ga  I — you  know  that 

10* 


114:  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

I  loved  him — both  sides  of  his  face  were  good, 
and  the  medicine-man  knew  it  also !  Why 
was  half  of  his  face  left  out  ?  He  never  was 
ashamed,  but  always  looked  white  man  in 
the  face !  Why  was  that  side  of  his  face  shot 
off?  Tour  friend  is  not  our  friend,  and  has 
forfeited  his  life — we  want  you  to  tell  us 
where  he  is — we  want  to  see  him !" 

Then  rose  Toh-ki-e-to  (a  medicine-man,)  of 
the  Yankton  band,  and  principal  orator  of 
the  nation.  "  My  friend,  these  are  young  men 
that  speak — I  am  not  afraid !  your  white  me- 
dicine-man painted  my  picture,  and  it  was 
good — I  am  glad  of  it — I  am  very  glad  to  see 
that  I  shall  live  after  I  am  dead ! — I  am  old 
and  not  afraid ! — some  of  our  young  men  are 
foolish.  I  know  that  this  man  put  many  of 
our  buffaloes  in  his  book !  for  I  was  with  him, 
and  we  have  had  no  buffaloes  since  to  eat,  it 
is  true — but  I  am  not  afraid ! !  his  medicine 
is  great  and  I  wish  him  well — we  are  friends." 

Thus  rested  the  affair  of  the  Dog  and  its  con- 
sequences, until  I  conversed  with  Major  Bean, 
the  agent  for  these  people,  who  arrived  in  St. 


THE  STORY  OF  SHON-KA. 


115 


Louis  some  weeks  after  I  did,  bringing  later 
intelligence  from  them,  assuring  me  that  the 
Dog  had  at  length  been  overtaken  and  killed, 
near  the  Black-hills,  and  that  the  affair 
might  now  for  ever  be  considered  as  settled. 


THE  DEATH  OF  CANONCHET. 

ANONCHET  was  the  sa- 
chem    of    the    powerful 
tribe    of    Narragansetts, 
who  inhabited   a  part  of  New 
England  claimed  by  the  govern- 
ment  of  Connecticut.      In   the 
war  between  the  Indians  and  the  colonists, 
which  began  in  1675,  and  is  commonly  called 
**King  Philip's  war,"  the  Narragansetts  were 
(116) 


DEATH  OF  CANONCHET. 


CANONCHET.  119 

led  by  their  own  wrongs  and  the  arts  of  Philip 
to  join  in  the  Indian  confederacy.  But  they 
suffered  severely  for  their  hostility.  Their 
fort  was  attacked  by  a  large  force  of  colonists, 
under  Governor  Winslow,  and  the  greater 
part  of  them  perished  by  the  guns  of  the 
English,  or  in  the  flames  of  the  burning  fort. 

The  remnant  of  the  JS'arragansetts  fled,  un- 
der the  command  of  Canonchet  and  Punno- 
quin,  both  of  whom  were  filled  with  inveterate 
hatred  of  the  colonists.  Canonchet  was  the 
son  of  the  celebrated  Miantonomoh,  and  the 
remembrance  of  his  father's  fate  rankled  in 
his  breast,  and  rendered  him  fierce  and  cruel 
beyond  his  nature.  The  Narragansetts  reached 
the  Wachusetts  hills  in  safety,  where  they 
united  with  the  Nipmucks  and  other  friendly 
tribes.  But  they  were  in  a  destitute  condi- 
tion, and  Canonchet  was  obliged  to  make 
great  exertions  to  supply  them  with  food,  in 
order  to  keep  them  faithful  to  him. 

Early  in  April,  1676,  he  proposed  the  dar- 
ing design  of  an  expedition  to  Seekonk,  to 
procure  seed  corn  to  plant  along  the  Connec- 


120  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

ticut  river,  where  he  had  taken  refuge.  At 
the  head  of  about  fifty  men,  he  marched  to- 
wards Seekonk,  and  soon  reached  Black  Stone 
river.  There  he  encamped,  and  imagining 
that  no  colonial  force  was  nearer  than  Ply- 
mouth, dismissed  twenty  of  his  men. 

On  the  27th  of  March,  Captain  Dennison 
had  left  Stonington,  with  a  body  of  troops,  on 
an  exploring  expedition,  in  search  of  Indians. 
When  near  Seekonk,  he  captured  two  squaws, 
who  informed  him  of  Canonchet's  encamp- 
ment. The  captain  quickened  his  march,  and 
as  Canonchet's  men,  instead  of  giving  the 
alarm,  fled  in  different  directions,  the  colo- 
nists were  in  his  camp  before  he  knew  of  their 
approach.  The  chief,  seeing  his  men  run, 
sent  out  two  or  three  to  ascertain  the  cause. 
One  of  these  returned  to  the  wigwam,  crying 
out  that  the  English  were  upon  them. 

Canochet  fled.  While  running  around  the 
hill  near  his  camp,  he  was  recognized  by 
the  Nanticks,  who  commenced  a  vigorous 
pursuit.  The  chase  was  long  and  exciting. 
One  by  one,  the  chief  threw  off  his  blanket, 


CANONCHET.  121 

bis  silver-laced  coat,  and  his  belt  of  peag. 
His  pursuers  gained  upon  him  ;  and  giving 
Tip  all  hope  of  reaching  the  woods,  he  hurried 
towards  the  river.  Monopoide,  a  Pequot, 
noted  for  his  swiftness,  pursued  in  such  a 
way  as  to  force  the  chief  to  cross  or  be  caught. 
Canonchet  plunged  into  the  stream,  and  sw^am 
for  the  opposite  shore.  The  English,  filled 
with  rage  and  fearful  of  being  baffled,  hur- 
ried to  the  river's  bank,  in  order  to  shoot  him 
if  an  opportunity  offered ;  but  Canonchet 
would  have  escaped,  had  not  an  accident  oc- 
curred, which,  to  use  his  own  words,  ''made 
his  heart  and  bowels  turn  within,  so  that  he 
became  like  a  rotten  stick,  and  void  of 
strength."  As  he  reached  a  shallow  part  of 
the  stream,  he  began  to  wade,  when  his  foot 
struck  against  a  stone,  and  he  fell  irito  the 
water.     His  gun  became  useless. 

Monopoide,  seeing  the  accident,  leaped  into 
the  water,  and  daringly  swam  towards  the 
chief,  who  was  probably  intimidated  by  super- 
stition. When  seized,  Canonchet  did  not  re- 
sist, although  he  was  a  man  of  great  size, 

11 


122  ^       STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

strength,  and  courage.  A  young  man,  named 
Staunton,  now  approached  and  asked  the 
chief  some  questions  in  regard  to  his  conduct 
during  the  war.  For  a  while  Canonchet 
treated  him  with  silent  contempt.  But  when 
the  other  had  ceased,  he  replied,  "You  much 
child — no  understand  matters  of  war.  Let 
your  brother  or  chief  come,  him  I  will  answer." 

Canonchet  was  then  brought  before  De"n- 
nison.  The  latter  offered  the  chief  his  life  on 
condition  that  he  would  induce  his  nation  to 
submit.  But  he  rejected  the  offer  with  con- 
tempt. He  was  commanded  to  comply.  He 
answered  that  killing  him  would  not  end  the 
war.  Some  of  the  soldiers  reminded  him  that 
he  had  threatened  to  burn  the  English  in 
their  houses;  and  that  in  spite  of  a  late 
treaty,  he  had  boasted  that  he  would  not  give 
up  a  Wampanoag,  or  the  paring  of  the  nail 
of  a  Wampanoag.  He  replied  that  others  were 
as  forward  for  the  war  as  himself,  and  that 
he  wished  to  hear  no  more  about  it. 

Dennison,  filled  with  joy  at  his  good  fortune, 
soon  after  returned  to  Stonington.  Canonchet 


CANONCHET.  123 

was  not  kept  long  in  suspense,  in  regard  to 
his  fate.  The  officers  decided  that  he  should 
be  shot.  The  sentence  was  announced  to  him, 
and  his  reply  was,  "  I  like  it  well.  I  shall 
die  before  my  heart  is  soft,  or  I  shall  say  any 
thing  unworthy  of  myself."  When  charged 
with  cruelty  and  treachery,  he  reminded  his 
foes  that  they  had  killed  his  father,  and  burned 
his  people  at  Narragansett.  Through  all  his 
captivity,  Canonchet  evinced  a  pride  of  soul 
that  danger  could  not  fright  nor  suffering  bend. 
The  "last  of  the  Narragansetts,"  as  Ca- 
nonchet has  been  termed,  was  led  out  to  die, 
"and  that  all  might  share  in  the  glory  of  de- 
stroying so  great  a  prince,  and  come  under 
the  obligation  of  fidelity,  each  to  the  other,  the 
Pequots  shot  him,  the  Mohegans  cut  off  his 
head,  and  quartered  his  body,  and  the  iN'an- 
ticks  made  the  fire  and  burned  his  quarters ; 
and  as  a  token  of  fidelity  to  the  English,  pre- 
sented his  head  to  the  council  at  Hartford." 
The  modern  reader  views  the  detail  of  this 
execution  with  disgust.  But  the  colonists 
then  thouglit  them  wise  and  just. 


124  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

The  death  of  Canonchet  was  a  severe  losa 
to  the  Indians.  Endowed  with  a  high  and 
generous  spirit,  he  had  obtained  a  great  and 
rare  influence  among  his  own  and  other 
tribes,  and  could  at  any  time  summon  to  the 
aid  of  Philip,  many  faithful  and  efficient  men. 
He  bound  men  to  his  interest  by  appealing 
to  their  love  of  what  is  great  and  heroic,  ra- 
ther than  their  fears,  and  of  all  Philip's  cap- 
tains, he  was  the  most  skilful  leader,  and  the 
bravest  warrior.  ^N'otwith standing  his  treaty 
with  the  English,  he  refused  to  give  up  the 
fugitive  Wampanoags  to  them ;  but  this  re- 
fusal was  owing  as  much  to  humanity  of  feel- 
ing as  to  a  violation  of  his  word.  The  records 
of  his  conduct  while  free  and  among  his 
tribe,  and  while  a  captive  with  the  whites,  lead 
us  to  lament  the  fate  of  so  able,  so  noble,  and 
generous  a  man. 


CHUECH  AND  THE  JSTAERAGANSETT. 


FTER  the  great  destruction 
of  the  Narragansett  Indians, 
in  King  Philip's  War,  by  the 
Connecticut  forces,  the  rem- 
nant of  the  tribe  were  pursued 
in  all  directions.  Winslow, 
with  the  main  body  of  the  troops,  advanced 

(127] 


128  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

rapidly  towards  the  Mpmuck  country.  Dur- 
ing the  pursuit,  the  celebrated  Captain  Ben- 
jamin Church  met  with  a  singular  and  almost 
fatal  adventure. 

Church  had  been  removed  with  the  other 
wounded  to  the  Narragansett's  fort.  But  par- 
tially recovered,  and  being  very  restless,  he 
had  again  joined  the  army,  and  was  persuaded 
by  Winslow  to  aid  him  in  the  pursuit  of  the 
Narragansetts.  On  the  route  they  reached 
an  Indian  town,  situated  on  a  small  island, 
which  was  surrounded  by  a  swamp.  The 
water  in  the  swamp  was  frozen,  which  pre- 
vented the  soldiers  from  charging  the  wigwam. 
A  spirited  fire  of  musketry  commenced,  under 
cover  of  which  the  troops  began  to  cross  the 
ice.  The  Indians  defended  themselves  until 
the  assailants  reached  the  island,  when  they 
broke  and  fled.  A  Mohegan,  friendly  to  the 
English  joined  in  the  pursuit,  and  capturing 
one  of  the  enemy,  who  had  been  wounded  in 
the  leg,  brought  him  to  Winslow. 

Winslow  examined  him,  but  could  not  draw 
from  him  the  wished  for  knowledge  concern- 


CHURCH  AND  THE  NARRAGANSETT.     l29 

ing  the  designs  of  his  countrymen.  The  cap- 
tive was  threatened ;  he  said  he  had  revealed 
all  he  knew.  Many  standing,  around  de- 
manded that  he  should  be  tortured ;  but  by 
the  advice  of  Church,  the  demand  was  refused. 
The  army  commenced  its  march.  But  as  the 
Narragansett's  wound  prevented  him  from 
keeping  pace  with  the  troops,  it  was  resolved 
to  "knock  him  in  the  head."  The  Mohegan 
who  captured  him  was  appointed  his  exe- 
cutioner. Church,  taking  no  delight  in  such 
things,  withdrew. 

The  Mohegan,  elated  with  the  honor  con- 
ferred upon  him,  advanced  towards  his  victim, 
flourishing  his  tomahawk,  and  evincing,  by 
distortions  of  limb  and  feature,  the  extremity 
of  his  satisfaction.  Suddenly,  he  aimed  a  tre- 
mendous blow  at  the  prisoner's  head,  but  the 
latter  skilfully  dodged  it,  and  the  Hatchet 
flying  from  the  Mohegan' s  hand,  "  had  like 
to  have  done  execution,  where  it  was  not  de- 
signed." Seizing  the  favorable  moment,  the 
Narragansett  broke  from  those  who  held  him, 
and  ran  for  his  life.     Taking  the  same  direc- 


130  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

tion  that  Church  had  done,  he  unexpectedly 
ran  directly  upon  him.  Church  grappled  with 
him ;  a  short  but  furious  scuffle  ensued,  but 
the  Narragansett,  being  destitute  of  clothing, 
slipped  from  his  adversary's  grasp,  and  again 
ran.  Church  followed,  the  Indian  stumbled 
and  fell,  and  the  bold  volunteer  again  seized 
him.  They  fought  and  wrestled  until  the 
Indian  slipped  through  Church's  hands,  and 
set  out  upon  his  third  race.  Church  was 
close  behind  him,  "  grasping  occasionally  at 
his  hair,"  which  was  all  the  hold  could  be 
taken  of  him. 

They  soon  reached  a  wide  surface  of  ice, 
which  being  in  some  places  hollow,  caused  a 
rumbling  noise,  which  induced  Church  to 
hope  that  some  of  his  friends  might  hear  it 
and,  come  to  his  relief.  Unfortunately  for  the 
Indiail,  it  began  to  grow  dark,  and  while 
running  at  full  speed,  he  came  abreast  of  a 
fallen  tree  of  great  thickness.  Why  he  did 
not  overleap  it  is  not  known;  but  having 
probably  became  intimidated,  he  suddenly 
stopped  and  cried  aloud  for  aid.   Church  was 


CHURCH  AND  THE  NARRAGANSETT.     131 

soon  upon  him.  The  Indian  seized  him  by 
the  hair,  and  tried  to  break  his  neck.  Church 
also  laid  hold  of  his  adversary's  hair  with 
both  hands,  repaying  twist  for  twist.  While 
in  this  attitude,  hanging  by  each  other's  hair, 
the  volunteer  contrived  to  butt  the  Indian 
vigorously  with  his  head  in  the  face. 

While  this  sharp  scuffle  was  in  progress, 
the  ice  was  heard. crackling  at  a  distance,  and 
soon  after  some  person  ran  towards  them. 
The  combatants  were  kept  in  suspense,  as 
the  darkness  prevented  the  new  comer  from 
being  seen.  The  stranger  reached  them,  and 
without  speaking  a  word  began  to  feel  first 
Church  and  then  the  Indian.  Amid  the  same 
ominous  silence,  he  raised  his  hatchet,  and 
sunk  it  in  the  head  of  the  savage.  It  was 
the  Mohegan  who  had  acted  as  executioner. 
Overjoyed  at  having  gratified  his  cruelty,  he 
hugged  Church  again  and  again,  thanked 
him  for  having  caught  his  prisoner,  and  con- 
ducted him  in  triumph  to  the  camp.  Through- 
out this  struggle  for  life.  Church  acted  with 
his  usual  dauntless  spirit,  and  the  capture 


132 


STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


of  the  iN'arragansett  was  owing  entirely  to 
his  persevering  courage.  The  Indian  was 
unjustly  put  to  death,  he  being  fully  entitled 
to  be  considered  as  a  prisoner  of  war.  But 
the  colonists  thought  by  appointing  a  Mohe- 
gan  to  be  his  executioner,  to  heighten  the 
friendly  feeling  existing  between  that  tribe 
and  the  English. 


THE  DEATH  OF  KING  PHILIP. 

HEN  tlie  famous  King 
Philip  had  lost 
the  greater 
part  of  his  war- 
riors in  the 
struggle  for 
life  and  death 
between  them  and  the  English,  and  he  him- 


X36  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

self  was  hunted  like  a  wild  beast  from  place 
to  place,  he  formed  the  strange  resolve  of 
visiting  the  ancient  haunt  of  his  ancestors  at 
Mount  Hope,  With  a  few  of  his  best  friends 
he  retired  into  that  swamp  which  was  des- 
tined to  be  a  prison  for  him.  His  retreat 
was  betrayed  to  Captain  Church,  by  an  In- 
dian deserter,  whose  brother  Philip  had  killed 
in  a  fit  of  passion. 

Church,  accompanied  by  Major  Sandford, 
and  Captain  Golding,  and  about  twenty  men, 
prepared  to  follow  the  great  chief  to  the 
swamp.  He  crossed  Trip's  ferry  in  the  even- 
ing, and  about  midnight,  a  consultation  was 
held  as  to  the  best  mode  of  attack.  Church 
offered  Golding  a  small  force  that  he  might 
go  in  advance  and  discover  the  real  situation 
of  Philip.  Golding  promptly  accepted  it. 
Church  then  instructed  him  to  be  careful  in 
his  approach  to  the  enemy,  and  be  sure  not 
to  show  himself  until  by  daylight,  that  they 
might  know  their  own  men  from  the  enemy ; 
to  creep  as  close  to  the  ground  as  possible, 
until  they  came  quite  near  to  the  swamp,  in 


THE  DEATH  OF  KING  PHILIP.  137 

order  to  fire  upon  the  Indians  as  soon  as  they 
arose ;  and  that  when  the  enemy  should  start 
for  the  swamp,  he  should  pursue  them  with 
speed.  He  was  to  shout  as  loud  as  he  could, 
for  the  ambuscade  would  receive  orders  to 
fire  upon  any  one  who  should  approach  in 
silence.  A  colonist  and  an  Indian  were 
placed  behind  each  shelter.  The  arrange- 
ments made  it  impossible  for  any  one  to  pass 
from  the  swamp  without  being  seen. 

The  swamp  in  which  Philip  was  concealed 
is  thus  described  by  Carne. — "  It  was  a  fit 
retreat  for  a  despairing  man,  being  one  of 
those  waste  and  dismal  places  to  which  few 
ever  wandered,  covered  with  rank  and  dense 
vegetation.  The  moist  soil  was  almost  hidden 
by  the  cypress  and  other  trees,  that  spread 
their  gloomy  shades  over  the  treacherous 
shallows  and  pools  beneath.  In  the  few  drier 
parts,  oaks  and  pines  grew,  and,  between 
them,  a  brushwood  so  thick  that  the  savage 
could  hardly  penetrate:  on  the  long,  rich 
grass  of  these  parts,  wild  cattte  fed,  uiiassailed 
by  the  hand  of  man,  save  when  they  ventured 

12* 


138  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

beyond  the  confines  of  the  swamp.  There 
were  wolves,  deer,  and  Other  animals;  and 
wilder  men,  it  was  said,  were  seen  here ;  it 
was  supposed  that  the  children  of  some  of 
the  Indians  had  either  been  lost  or  left  there, 
and  had  thus  grown  up  like  denizens  of  this 
wild.  Here  the  baffled  chieftain  gathered 
his  little  band  around  him,  like  a  lion  baited 
by  the  hunters,  sullenly  seeking  his  gloomy 
thickets  only  to  spring  forth  more  fatally. 
His  love  was  turned  to  agony ;  his  wife  was 
in  the  land  of  his  enemies ;  and  would  they 
spare  her  beauty?  His  only  son,  the  heir 
of  a  long  line,  must  bow  his  head  to  their 
yoke ;  his  chief  warriors  had  all  fallen,  and 
he  could  not  trust  the  few  who  were  still  with 
him." 

Early  on  the  mo^'ning  of  the  12th  of  Au- 
gust, Church  approached  Major  Sandford,  and 
taking  him  by  the  hand,  said  that  he  had 
placed  his  men  so  that  it  was  scarcely  pos- 
sible for  Philip  to  escape.  At  this  moment, 
a  single  shot  wds  heard  in  the  distance,  and 
a  ball  whistled  through  the  air  over  their 


THE  DEATH  OF  KING  PHILIP.  139 

heads.  Churcli  imagined  that  it  had  been 
fired  by  accident ;  but  before  he  could  speak, 
an  entire  volley  was  discharged. 

The  battle  had  been  hastened  by  the  indis- 
cretion of  Golding.  An  Indian,  having  re- 
tired at  some  distance  from  his  companions, 
stood  for  a  while  looking  around  him,  and  as 
Golding  supposed,  directly  at  him.  The  cap- 
tain immediately  fired ;  and  his  men  poured 
a  volley  into  the  Indian  camp,  which,  as  the 
savages  were  asleep,  passed  clear  over  them. 
Philip's  men,  thus  unexpectedly  aroused,  ran 
into  the  swamp,  and  the  chief,  throwing  his 
belt  and  powder  horn  over  his  head,  seized 
his  gun  and  fled.  Unaw^are  of  the  ambush, 
he  ran  directly  towards  one  of  Church's  men. 
When  he  was  quite  near,  the  colonist  levelled 
his  gun,  but  missed  fire.  He  bade  the  Indian 
fire,  which  he  did  with  effect,  one  of  the  balls 
passing  through  the  sachem's  heart,  and  an- 
other through  his  lungs.  He  bounded  into 
the  air  and  fell  upon  his  face  in  the  mud. 

The  battle  continued,  though  the  Indians 
fought  against  great  odds.    They  were  rallied 


140  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

and  encouraged  to  stand,  by  an  old  chief,  who 
frequently  repeated  in  a  loud  voice,  the  ex- 
clamation, "lootash,"  a  sort  of  war-cry  in 
time  of  danger.  Church,  surprised  by  the 
boldness  of  this  chief,  and  the  loudness  of  his 
voice,  asked  his  Indian  servant,  Peter,  who 
it  was.  He  answered  that  it  was  Philip's 
great  captain,  Annawon,  "calling  on  his  sol- 
diers to  stand  to  it,  and  fight  stoutly."  But 
the  efforts  of  the  chief  failed ;  the  greater  part 
of  the  men,  discovering  that  a  part  of  the 
swamp  was  not  surrounded,  made  their  escape. 

Alderman,  the  Indian  who  had  shot  Philip, 
immediately  informed  Church  of  his  exploit ; 
but  the  captain  told  him  to  keep  silence  until 
they  had  driven  all  the  Indians  from  the 
swamp.  The  skirmishing  continued  until 
sun  rise,  when  Annawon  and  the  few  who  re- 
mained with  him,  escaped.  In  this  encounter 
five  Indians  were  killed,  among  whom  was  a 
son  of  the  great  Philip. 

Church,  glad  of  having  accomplished  the 
main  object  of  the  expedition,  thought  it 
useless  to  pursue  the  fugitives,  and  hence  col- 


THE  DEATH  OF  KING  PHILIP.  141 

lected  his  men  in  the  place  where  the  Indians 
had  passed  the  night.  Here  he  informed 
them  of  Philip's  death,  which  was  greeted 
with  three  loud  cheers ;  after  which  the  sa- 
chem's body  was  dragged  from  the  mud  to 
the  upland.  In  the  moment  of  victory,  Church 
forgot  the  magnanimity  which  had  hitherto 
distinguished  him,  and  joined  in  the  jests, 
with  which  his  men  insulted  the  corpse  of 
the  man,  at  whose  name  they  had  formerly 
trembled.  The  captain  ordered  him  to  be 
beheaded  and  quartered,  which  was  accom- 
plished by  an  old  Indian  executioner,  the 
pieces  being  hung  on  trees.  One  of  the  hands 
which  had  been  scarred  by  the  splitting  of  a 
pistol,  was  given  to  Alderman  "to  show  to 
such  gentlemen  as  would  bestow  gratuitous 
alms  upon  him,  and  accordingly,  he  got  many 
a  penny  by  it,"  The  head  was  placed  in  a 
conspicuous  part  of  the  town  of  Plymouth, 
where  it  remained  many  years. 

The  war  was  considered  as  ended  with  the 
death  of  the  leading  spirit  on  the  part  of  the 
Indians.     It  had  been  one  of  extermination 


142  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

upon  both  sides,  but  the  red  men  had  suffered 
far  more  than  the  'English.  The  character  of 
Philip  has  been  frequently  drawn  by  able 
pens,  and  full  justice  has  been  rendered  to 
his  memory.  Activity,  courage,  skill  in  war 
and  diplomacy,  were  the  remarkable  features 
of  his  well-known  character.  His  ends  were 
lofty  and  startling,  and  he  was  wise  in  the 
choice  of  means.  To  great  qualities  of  mind, 
he  added  the  strongest  feelings,  and  no  part 
of  his  life  excites  our  sympathies  more  than 
his  lattar  days,  when,  bereft  of  friends  and 
relations,  he  returned,  broken-hearted,  to  the 
haunts  of  his  youth.  His  hatred  of  the  En- 
glish, was  early  and  lasting — founded  upon 
just  cause,  and  followed  up  with  unrelenting 
cruelty.  He  was  a  savage,  untaught  in  the 
arts  and  refinements  of  civilization,  and  in 
estimating  his  character  this  should  be  con- 
sidered. Then  will  it  be  clear,  that  Philip 
was  one  of  the  greatest  of  Indians  and  the 
noblest  of  the  unlearned  children  of  the  forest. 


AN  INDIAN  CONJUROR. 


INDIAN  MEDICINE-MEN. 


THE  EAIN  MAKEES. 

HE  Mandans,  have  digni- 
taries whom  they  call 
"rain  makers,"  and  ''rain 
stoppers,"  because  they 
believe  in  their  powers  to 
bring    rain    in    case    of 

•drought,  or  to  stop  the 
rain  when  too  strong  and 
violent.  Catlin  gives  a 
very  interesting  account 
of  an  instance  in  which 
the  powers  of  these  men  were  tested. 

13  (145) 


14:6  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

The  Mandans,  says  Catlin,  raise  a  great 
deal  of  corn ;  but  sometimes  a  most  disas- 
trous drought  visits  the  land,  destructive  to 
their  promised  harvest.  Such  was  the  case 
when  I  arrived  at  the  Mandan  village,  on  the 
steamboat  Yellow  Stone.  Eain  had  not  fallen 
for  many  a  day,  and  the  dear  little  girls  and 
ugly  old  squaws,  altogether,  (all  of  whom  had 
fields  of  corn,)  were  groaning  and  crying  to 
their  lords,  and  imploring  them  to  intercede 
for  rain,  that  their  little  patches,  which  were 
now  turning  pale  and  yellow,  might  not  be 
withered,  and  they  be  deprived  of  the  custo- 
mary annual  festivity,  and  the  joyful  occasion 
of  the  ''roasting  ears,"  and  the  "green  corn 
dance." 

The  chiefs  and  doctors  sympathized  with 
the  distress  of  the  women,  and  recommended 
patience.  Great  deliberation,  they  said,  was 
necessary  in  these  cases ;  and  though  they 
resolved  on  making  the  attempt  to  produce 
rain  for  the  benefit  of  the  corn ;  yet  they  very 
wisely  resolved  that  to  begin  too  soon  might 
ensure  their  entire  defeat  in  the  endeavor: 


THE    RAIN  MAKERS.  147 

and  that  tlie  longer  they  put  it  off,  the  more 
certain  they  would  be  of  ultimate  success. 
So,  after  a  few  days  of  further  delay,  when 
the  importunities  of  the  women  had  become 
clamorous,  and  even  mournful,  and  almost 
insupportable,  the  medicine-men  assembled 
in  the  council-house,  with  all  their  mystery 
ajjparatus  about  them — with  an  abundance 
of  wild  sage,  and  other  aromatic  herbs,  with 
a  fire  prepared  to  burn  them,  that  their 
savory  odors  might  be  sent  forth  to  the  Great 
Spirit.  The  lodge  was  closed  to  all  the  vil- 
lagers, except  some  ten  or  fifteen  young  men, 
who  were  willing  to  hazard  the  dreadful  al- 
ternative of  making  it  rain,  or  suffer  the  ever- 
lasting disgrace  of  having  made  a  fruitless 
essay. 

They,  only,  were  allowed  as  witnesses  to 
the  hocus  pocus  and  conjurations  devised  by  the 
doctors  inside  of  the  medicine  lodge;  and 
they  were  called  up  by  lot,  each  one  in  his 
turn,  to  spend  a  day  upon  the  top  of  the  lodge, 
to  test  the  potency  of  his  medicine ;  or,  in 
other  words,  to  see  how  far  his  voice  might 


148  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

be  heard  and  obeyed  amongst  the  clouds  of 
the  heavens ;  whilst  the  doctors  were  burn- 
ing incense  in  the  wigwam  below,  and  with 
their  songs  and  prayers  to  the  Great  Spirit 
for  success,  were  sending  forth  grateful  fumes 
and  odors  to  Him  "  who  lives  in  the  sun  and 
commands  the  thunders  of  Heaven."  Wah- 
kee,  (the  shield,)  was  the  first  who  ascended 
the  wigwam  at  sun  rise ;  and  he  stood  all  day, 
and  looked  foolish,  as  he  was  counting  over 
and  over  his  string  of  mystery-beads — the 
whole  village  were  assembled  around  him, 
and  praying  for  his  success.  JSTot  a  cloud 
appeared — the  day  was  calm  and  hot ;  and 
at  the  setting  of  the  sun,  he  descended  from 
the  lodge  and  went  home — "his  medicine 
was  not  good,"  nor  can  he  ever  be  a  medicine- 
man. 

Om-pah,  (the  elk,)  was  the  next;  he  as- 
cended the  lodge  at  sunrise  the  next  morning. 
His  body  was  entirely  naked,  being  covered 
with  yellow  clay.  On  his  left  arm  he  carried 
a  beautiful  shield,  and  a  long  lance  in  his 
right;  and  on  his  head  the  skin  of  a  raven, 


THE   RAIN   MAKERS.  149 

the  bird  that  soars  amidst  the  clouds,  and 
above  the  lightning's  glare — he  flourished  his 
shield  and  brandished  his  lance,  and  raised  his 
voice,  but  in  vain ;  for  at  sun  set  the  ground 
was  dry,  and  the  sky  was  clear ;  the  squaws 
were  crying,  and  their  corn  was  withering  at 
its  roots. 

War-rah-pa,  (the  beaver,)  was  the  next; 
he  also  spent  his  breath  in  vain  upon  the 
empty  air,  and  came  down  at  night — and 
Wak-a-dah-ha-hee,  (the  white  buffalo's  hair,) 
took  the  stand  the  next  morning.  He  was  a 
small,  but  beautifully  proportioned  young 
man.  He  was  dressed  in  a  tunic,  and  leggings 
of  the  skins  of  the  mountain-sheep,  splendidly 
garnished  with  the  quills  of  the  porcupine, 
and  fringed  with  locks  of  hair  taken  by  his 
own  hand  from  the  heads  of  his  enemies.  On 
his  arm  he  carried  his  shield,  made  of  the 
buffalo's  hide — its  boss  was  the  head  of  the 
war-eagle — and  its  front  was  ornamented  with 
"  red  chains  of  lightning."  In  his  left  hand 
he  clinched  his  sinewy  bow  and  one  single 
arrow.    The  villagers  were  all  gathered  about 

13* 


150  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

him ;  when  he  threw  up  a  feather  to  decide 
on  the  course  of  the  wind,  and  he  commenced 
thus :  "My  friends  I  people  of  the  pheasants! 
you  see  me  here  a  sacrifice — I  shall  this  day 
relieve  you  from  great  distress,  and  bring  joy 
amongst  you;  or  I  shall  descend  from  this 
lodge  when  the  sun  goes  down,  and  live 
amongst  the  dogs  and  old  women  all  my  days. 
My  friends !  you  saw  which  way  the  feather 
flew,  and  I  hold  my  shield  this  day  in  the  di- 
rection where  the  wind  comes — the  lightning 
on  my  shield  will  draw  a  great  cloud,  and 
the  arrow,  which  is  selected  from  my  quiver, 
and  which  is  feathered  with  the  quill  of  the 
white  swan,  will  make  a  hole  in  it.  My 
friends !  this  hole  in  the  lodge  at  my  feet, 
shows  me  the  medicine-men,  who  are  seated 
in  the  lodge  below  me  and  crying  to  the  Great 
Spirit ;''  and  through  it  comes  and  passes  into 
my  nose  delightful  odors,  which  you  see  rising 
in  the  smoke  to  the  Great  Spirit  above,  who 
rides  in  the  clouds  and  commands  the  winds  I 
Three  days  they  have  sat  here,  my  friends, 
and  nothing  has  been  done  to  relieve  your 


THE   RAIN   MAKERS.  151 

distress.  On  the  first  day  was  Wah-kee,  (the 
shield,)  he  could  do  nothing ;  he  counted  his 
beads  and  came  down — his  medicine  was  not 
good — his  name  was  bad,  and  it  kept  off  the 
rain.  The  next  was  Om-pah,  (the  elk;)  on 
his  head  the  raven  was  seen,  who  flies 
above  the  storm,  and  he  failed.  War-rah-pa, 
(the  beaver,)  was  the  next,  my  friends ;  the 
beaver  lives  under  the  water,  and  he  never 
wants  it  to  rain.  My  friends !  I  see  you  are 
in  great  distress,  and  nothing  has  yet  been 
done ;  this  shield  belonged  to  my  father  the 
"White  Buffalo ;  and  the  lightning  you  see  on 
it  is  red ;  it  was  taken  from  a  black  cloud, 
and  that  cloud  will  come  over  us  to-day.  I 
am  the  White  Buffalo's  Hair — and  am  the  son 
of  my  father." 

It  happened  on  this  memorable  day  about 
noon,  that  the  steamboat  Yellow  Stone,  on 
her  first  trip  up  the  Missouri  river,  approached 
and  landed  at  the  Mandan  village.  I  was 
lucky  enough  to  be  a  passenger  on  this  boat, 
and  helped  to  fire  a  salute  of  twenty  guns  of 
twelve  pounds  calibre,  when  we  first  came  in 


152  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

sight  of  the  village,  some  three  or  four  miles 
below.  These  guns  introduced  a  new  sound 
into  this  strange  country,  which  the  Mandans 
first  supposed  to  be  thunder ;  and  the  young 
man  upon  the  lodge,  who  turned  it  to  good 
account,  was  gathering  fame  in  rounds  of  ap- 
plause, which  were  repeated  and  echoed 
through  the  whole  village ;  all  eyes  were  cen- 
tred upon  him — chiefs  envied  him — mother's 
hearts  were  beating  high  whilst  they  were 
decorating  and  leading  up  their  fair  daughters 
to  offer  him  in  marriage,  on  his  signal  suc- 
cess. The  medicine-men  had  left  the  lodge, 
and  came  out  to  bestow  upon  him  the  envied 
title  of  ''medicine-man,  or  doctor,''  which  he 
had  so  deservedly  won — wreaths  were  prepared 
to  decorate  his  brows,  and  eagles'  plumes  and 
calumets  were  in  readiness  for  him ;  his  friends 
were  all  rejoiced — his  enemies  wore  on  their 
faces  a  silent  gloom  and  hatred ;  and  his  old 
sweethearts,  who  had  formerly  cast  him  off, 
gazed  intently  upon  him,  as  they  glowed  with 
the  burning  fever  of  repentance. 

During  all  this  excitement,  Wak-a-dah-ha- 


THE   RAIN   MAKERS.  153 

hee  kept  his  position,  assuming  the  most 
commanding  and  threatening  attitudes ; 
brandishing  his  shield  in  the  direction  of  the 
thunder,  although  there  was  not  a.  cloud  to 
be  seen,  until  he,  poor  fellow,  being  elevated 
above  the  rest  of  the  village,  espied,  to  his 
inexpressible  amazement,  the  steamboat 
ploughing  its  way  up  the  windings  of  the 
river  below ;  puffing  her  steam  from  her  pipes, 
and  sending  forth  the  thunder  from  a  twelve- 
pounder  on  her  deck ! 

The  White  Buffalo's  Hair  stood  motionless 
and  turned  pale,  he  looked  awhile,  and  turned 
to  the  chief  and  to  the  multitude,  and  ad- 
dressed them  with  a  trembling  lip  —  ''My 
friends,  we  will  get  no  rain!  there  are,  you 
see,  no  clouds ;  but  my  medicine  is  great — I 
have  brought  a  thunder  boat !  look  and  see 
it !  the  thunder  you  hear  is  out  of  her  mouth, 
and  the  lightning  which  you  see  is  on  the 
waters!" 

At  this  intelligence,  the  whole  village  flew 
to  the  tops  of  their  wigwams,  or  to  the  bank 
of  the  river,  from  whence  the  steamer  was  in 


154  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

full  view,  and  ploughing  along,  to  tlieir  utter 
dismay  and  confusion. 

In  this  promiscuous  throng  of  chiefs,  doc- 
tors, women,  children,  and  dogs,  was  mingled 
Wak-a-dah-ha-hee,  (the  white  buffalo's  hair,) 
having  descended  from  his  high  place  to 
mingle  with  the  frightened  throng. 

Dismayed  at  the  approach  of  so  strange  and 
unaccountable  an  object,  the  Mandans  stood 
their  ground  but  a  few  moments ;  when,  by 
an  order  of  the  chiefs,  all  hands  were  en- 
sconced within  the  piquets  of  the  village,  and 
all  the  warriors  armed  for  desperate  defence. 
A  few  moments  brought  the  boat  in  front  of 
the  village,  and  all  was  still  and  quiet  as 
death ;  not  a  Mandan  was  to  be  seen  upon 
the  banks.  The  steamer  was  moored,  and 
three  or  four  of  the  chiefs  soon  after,  walked 
boldly  down  the  bank  and  on  to  her  deck, 
with  a  spear  in  one  hand  and  the  calumet  or 
pipe  of  peace  in  the  other.  The  moment  they 
stepped  on  board,  they  met  (to  their  great 
surprise  and  joy)  their  old  friend,  Major  San- 
ford,  their  agent,  which  circumstance  put  an 


THE  RAIN  MAKERS.  155 

end  to  all  their  fears.  The  villagers  were  soon 
apprized  of  the  fact,  and  the  whole  race  of  the 
beautiful  and  friendly  Mandans  was  paraded 
on  the  bank  of  the  river,  in  front  of  the  boat. 
The  "  rain  maker,"  whose  apprehensions  of 
a  public  calamity  brought  upon  the  nation 
by  his  extraordinary  medicine,  had,  for  the 
better  security  of  his  person  from  apprehended 
vengeance,  secreted  himself  in  some  secure 
place,  and  was  the  last  to  come  forward,  and 
the  last  to  be  convinced  that  the  visitation 
was  a  friendly  one  from  the  white  people ; 
and  that  his  medicine  had  not  in  the  least 
been  instrumental  in  bringing  it  about.  This 
information,  though  received  by  him  with 
much  caution  and  suspicion,  at  length  gave 
him  much  relief,  and  quieted  his  mind  as  to 
his  danger.  Yet  still  in  his  breast  there  was 
a  rankling  thorn,  though  he  escaped  the 
dreaded  vengeance  which  he  had  a  few  mo- 
ments before  apprehended  as  at  hand ;  as  he 
had  the  mortification  and  disgrace  of  having 
failed  in  his  mysterious  operations.  He  set 
up,  however,  (during  the  day,  in  his  conver- 


156  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

sation  about  the  strange  arrival,)  his  medi- 
cines, as  the  cause  of  its  approach ;  -asserting 
every  where  and  to  every  body,  that  he  knew 
of  its  coming,  and  that  he  had  by  his  magic 
brought  the  occurrence  about.  This  plea, 
however,  did  not  get  him  much  audience ;  and 
in  fact,  every  thing  else  was  pretty  much 
swallowed  up  in  the  guttural  talk,  and  bustle, 
and  gossip  about  the  mysteries  of  the  thunder 
boat ;  and  so  passed  the  day,  until  just  at 
the  approach  of  evening,  when  the  "White 
Buffalo's  Hair,"  more  watchful  of  such  matters 
on  this  occasion  than  most  others,  observed 
that  a  black  cloud  had  been  jutting  up  in  the 
horizon,  and  was  almost  directly  over  the 
village !  In  an  instant  his  shield  was  on  his 
arm,  and  his  bow  in  his  hand,  and  he  again 
upon  the  lodge !  stiffened  and  braced  to  the 
last  sinew,  he  stood,  with  his  face  and  shield 
presented  to  the  cloud,  and  his  bow  drawn. 
He  drew  the  eyes  of  the  whole  village  upon 
him  as  he  vaunted  forth  his  super-human 
powers,  and  at  the  same  time  commanding 
the  cloud  to  come  nearer,  that  he  might  draw 


THE   RAIN  MAKERS.  157 

down  its  contents  upon  the  heads  and  the 
cornfields  of  the  Mandans !  In  this  wise  he 
stood,  waving  his  shield  over  his  head,  stamp- 
ing his  foot  and  frowning  as  he  drew  his  bow 
and  threatening  the  heavens,  commanding  it 
to  rain — his  bow  was  bent,  and  the  arrow 
drawn  to  its  head,  was  sent  to  the  cloud,  and 
he  exclaimed,  "  My  friends,  it  is  done !  Wak- 
a-dah-ha-hee's  arrow  has  entered  the  black 
cloud,  and  the  Mandans  will  be  wet  with  the 
waters  of  the  skies!"  His  predictions  were 
true ;  in  a  few  moments  the  clouds  were  over 
the  village,  and  the  rain  fell  in  torrents.  He 
stood  for  some  time  wielding  his  weapons 
and  presenting  his  shield  to  the  sky,  while  he 
boasted  of  his  power  and  the  efficacy  of  his 
medicine,  to  those  who  had  been  about  him, 
and  were  now  driven  to  the  shelter  of  their 
wigwams.  He,  at  length,  finished  his  vaunts 
and  threats,  and  descended  from  his  high 
place,  (in  which  he  had  been  perfectly 
drenched,)  prepared  to  receive  the  honors  and 
the  homage  that  were  due  to  one  so  potent  in 
his  mysteries ;  and  to  receive  the  style  and 

14 


158  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

title  of  "  medicine-man."  This  is  one  of  a 
hundred  different  modes  in  which  a  man  in 
Indian  countries  acquires  the  honorable 
appellation. 

This  man  had  "made  it  rain,"  and  of 
course  was  to  receive  more  than  usual  honors, 
as  he  had  done  much  more  than  ordinary  men 
could  do.  -All  eyes  were  upon  him,  and  all 
were  ready  to  admit  that  he  was  skilled  in 
the  magic  art;  and  must  be  so  nearly  allied 
to  the  Great  or  Evil  Spirit,  that  he  must  needs 
be  a  man  of  great  and  powerful  influence  in 
the  nation,  and  was  entitled  to  the  style  of 
doctor  or  medicine-man. 

During  the  memorable  night  of  which  I 
have  just  spoken,  the  steamboat  remained  by 
the  side  of  the  Mandan  village,  and  the  rain 
that  had  commenced  falling  continued  to  poui 
down  its  torrents  until  midnight;  black 
thunder  roared,  and  vivid  lightning  flashed 
until  the  heavens  appeared  to  be  lit  up  with 
one  unceasing  and  appalling  glare.  In  this 
frightful  moment  of  consternation,  a  flash 
of  lightning  buried  itself  in  one  of  the  earth- 


THE   RAIN   MAKERS.  159 

covered  lodges  of  the  Mandans,  and  killed  a 
beautiful  girl.  Here  was  food  and  fuel  fresh 
for  their  superstitions ;  and  a  night  of  vast 
tumult  and  excitement  ensued.  The  dreams 
of  the  new-made  medicine-man  were  troubled, 
and  he  had  dreadful  apprehensions  for  the 
coming  day ;  for  he  knew  that  he  was  sub- 
ject to  the  irrevocable  decree  of  the  chiefs 
and  doctors,  who  canvass  every  strange  and 
unaccountable  event,  with  close  and  super- 
stitious scrutiny,  and  let  their  vengeance  fall 
without  mercy  upon  its  immediate  cause. 

He  looked  upon  his  well-earned  fame  as 
likely  to  be  withheld  from  him ;  and  also 
considered  that  his  life  might  perhaps  be  de- 
manded as  the  forfeit  for  this  girl's  death, 
which  would  certainly  be  charged  upon  him. 
He  looked  upon  himself  as  culpable,  and  sup- 
posed the  accident  to  have  been  occasioned 
by  his  criminal  desertion  of  his  post,  when 
the  steamboat  was  approaching  the  village. 
Morning  came,  and  he  soon  learned  from 
some  of  his  friends,  the  opinions  of  the  wise 
rafin ;  and  also  the  nature  of  the  tribunal  that 


160  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

was  preparing  for  Mm ;  lie  sent  to  the  prairie 
for  his  three  horses,  which  were  brought  in, 
and  he  mounted  the  medicine  lodge,  around 
which,  in  a  few  moments,  the  villagers  were 
all  assembled*  "  My  friends,"  said  he,  "I 
see  you  all  around  me,  and  I  am  before  you  ; 
my  medicine,  you  see,  is  great — it  is  too  great ; 
I  am  young,  and  was  too  fast — I  knew  not 
when  to  stop.  The  wigwam,  of  Mah-siah  is 
laid  low,  and  many  are  the  eyes  that  weep 
for  Ko-ka,  (the  antelope;)  Wak-a-dah-ha-hee 
gives  three  horses  to  gladden  the  hearts  of 
those  who  weep  for  Ko-ka ;  his  medicine  was 
great — his  arrow  pierced  the  black  cloud,  and 
the  lightning  came,  and  the  thunder-boat 
also !  who  says  that  the  medicine  of  Wak-a- 
dah-ha-hee  is  not  strong  ?" 

At  the  end  of  this  sentence  an  unanimous 
shout  of  approbation  ran  through  the  crowd, 
and  the  "  Hair  of  the  White  Buffalo"  descended 
amongst  them,  where  he  was  greeted  by  shakcc 
of  the  hand  ;  and  amongst  whom  he  now  lives 
and  thrives  under  the  familiar  and  honorable 
appellation  of  the  "  Big  Double  Medicine." 


OCONOSTOTA. 


THE  BKIDE'S  KESCUE. 


ANY  years   ago   when    the 
great  valley  of  the  Missis- 
sippi was  rarely  trodden  by 
the  white  men,  there  lived 
upon  the  southern  frontier  of 
Kentucky,  then  nearly  a  wil- 
derness, an  old  hunter,  named  Johnson.     He 
was  one  of  the  pioneers  of  the  region  in  which 
(163) 


164  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

he  had  built  his  log  cabin,  and  had  long  pro- 
cured a  comfortable  subsistence  for  a  wife 
and  child  by  the  aid  of  a  good  rifle  and  his 
snares.  Mrs.  Johnson  had  become  accus- 
tomed to  the  privations  of  her  situation ;  and 
her  daughter,  Sarah,  having  arrived  at  the  age 
of  young  womanhood,  contributed  to  relieve 
the  monotony  of  a  life  in  the  wilderness. 
The  cares  of  the  family  were  slight.  Their 
simple  food  and  clothing  were  easily  procured, 
and  their  wishes  for  the  conveniences  of 
civilized  life  had  ceased,  when  it  was  found 
that  they  could  not  be  gratified.  In  short, 
we  may  say,  the  Johnson  family  lived  happily 
in  their  wilderness  home. 

Sarah  Johnson  was  about  eighteen  years 
of  age,  when  she  was  first  brought  to  our  no- 
tice. She  was  not  handsome,  but  she  was 
tolerably  *'  good  looking,"  and  possessed  a 
stock  of  good  sense,  which  is  somewhat  rarer 
than  beauty.  Old  Johnson  said  she  was  a 
"likely  girl,"  and  her  mother  thought  she 
deserved  a  good  husband.  This  desert  seemed 
to  be  about  to  receive  its  reward.     Two  or 


THE  bride's  rescue.  165 

three  miles  from  Johnson's  cabin,  lived  an- 
other hunter,  named  John  Blake.  Like  John- 
son, Blak.e  had  long  followed  hunting  for  a 
subsistence,  had  married,  and  had  one  child. 
The  wife  was  dead ;  but  the  child  had  grown 
to  manhood,  and  Samuel  Blake  was  now  re- 
garded as  quite  equal  to  his  father  in  hunting. 

As  Johnson  and  Blake  had  been  very  inti- 
mate friends  for  a  long  time,  their  children 
were  frequently  thrown  into  each  other's  com- 
pany ;  and  a  strong  attachment  had  sprung 
up  between  them.  The  fathers  looked  favor- 
ably upon  this  perpetuation  of  their  intimacy, 
and  it  soon  became  a  settled  matter  that 
Samuel  Blake  and  Sarah  Johnson  should  be 
man  and  wife. 

Both  the  old  hunters  had  always  kept  up 
a  friendly  intercourse  with  the  neighboring 
Indians,  and  many  of  the  latter  had  visited 
the  cabins  and  partaken  of  their  hospitalities. 
Johnson  had  obtained  a  great  reputation 
among  the  red  men  for  his  skill  in  hunting. 
His  company  was  sought  by  the  young  men 
of  the  tribe,  and  always  with  profit.    Samuel 


166  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

Blake  was  also  regarded  as  a  brave  and  skil- 
ful hunter,  and  admired  by  the  Indians. 
Among  those  who  frequently  visited  Johnson's 
cabin,  was  young  Oconostota,  son  of  the  chief 
of  the  neighboring  tribe.  He  was  already 
distinguished  as  a  warrior  and  hunter,  and 
his  personal  appearance  was  so  admirable 
that  many  an  Indian  maiden's  heart  beat 
high  with  the  hope  that  she  might  be  the 
fortunate  one  who  should  share  his  wigwam. 
But  Oconostota' s  eyes  and  thoughts  were 
fixed  elsewhere.  He  had  seen  and  conversed 
with  Sarah  Johnson,  and  he  burned  with  the 
desire  to  secure  her  for  his  wife.  Sarah  could 
not  help  seeing  the  admiring  looks  he  gave 
her  during  his  frequent  visits ;  but  she  did 
not  suspect  the  real  state  of  his  feelings; 
probably,  because  her  thoughts  found  occu- 
pation enough  in  thinking  of  Samuel  Blake. 
A.t  length,  however,  the  young  brave  ventured 
10  disclose  his  wishes  to  old  Johnson,  during 
a  hunting  excursion,  in  which  they  were  en- 
gaged together.  The  old  hunter  was  sur- 
prised;    but    considering    that    Oconostota 


THE  BEIDE'S  rescue.  167 

might  easily  be  irritated  and  dangerous  con- 
sequences ensue,  he  calmly  and  deliberately 
made  known  to  him  that  Sarah  had  long  been 
engaged  to  Samuel  Blake,  and  that  that  en- 
gagement could  not  be  broken. 

Love  cannot  listen  to  reason.  Oconostota 
urged  his  suit  still  further,  offering,  with  true 
Indian  simplicity,  two  splendid  horses  for  the 
hunter's  daughter.  He  increased  the  num- 
ber to  ten,  but  the  hunter  remained  firm,  and 
the  young  brave  was  forced  to  give  up  en- 
treaty. When  Johnson  reached  his  cabin,  he 
found  young  Blake  and  his  father  there,  both 
having  been  invited  by  Mrs.  Johnson  to  re- 
main and  take  supper  with  them.  The  veni- 
son was  broiling  before  the  coals  in  the  large 
fire-place,  the  table  was  neatly  spread,  and 
every  thing  had  a  cheerful  appearance.  Oco- 
nostota had  refused  Johnson's  invitation  to 
spend  the  evening  with  him,  and  returned  to 
his  village.  The  hunter  thought  he  would 
have  done  better  to  have  accepted  the  invi- 
tation. 

While  old  Johnson  and  old  Blake  talked 


168  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

over  the  doings  of  the  day,  and  the  adventures 
of  many  previous  ones,  young  Blake,  Sarah, 
and  Mrs.  Johnson,  talked  of  matters  less 
stirring,  but  more  important  to  the  females — 
cooking,  house-keeping,  &c.  The  pewter 
dishes  soon  received  their  smoking,  savory 
weight,  and  all  seated  themselves  around  the 
table.  Johnson  then  introduced  the  subject 
which  had  been  troubling  his  thoughts  for 
some  time  previous.  The  whole  party  was 
informed  of  the  proposal  of  Oconostota,  and 
of  his  rejection  by  the  father  on  behalf  of  his 
daughter.  The  young  couple  were  both  sur- 
prised, and  Samuel  Blake  laughed  outright. 
The  old  men  looked  grave,  and  Mrs.  Johnson 
troubled.  They  knew  the  Indian  character 
well  enough  to  know  that  the  matter  would 
not  end  there.  In  fact,  serious  consequences 
might  be  expected  to  result  from  the  refusal. 
Some  discussion  ensued,  when  old  Blake 
recommended  that  Samuel  and  Sarah  should 
be  married  as  soon  as  possible,  and  then  con- 
ciliatory measures  might  secure  the  agree- 
ment of  Oconostota  and  his  friends  to  what 


1 


THE  bride's  rescue.  169 

could  not  be  changed.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Johnson 
agreed  to  this  proposition,  and  the  young 
people  almost  "jumped"  at  it.  Before  that 
meal  was  concluded,  the  day  for  the  wedding 
was  tixed,  and  it  was  arranged  that  the  par- 
ties should  proceed  to  a  settlement  about  ten 
miles  from  the  cabin  of  Johnson,  where  the 
ceremony  would  be  performed.  Then  a  new 
cabin  was  to  be  erected  between  Blake's  and 
Johnson's,  spacious  enough  for  Samuel  and 
Sarah,  and  old  Blake. 

Meanwhile,  Oconostota  deeply  felt  the 
sting  of  rejected  love.  He  strove  to  conquer 
his  feelings,  and  thought  of  taking  an  Indian 
wife.  But  his  nature  was  too  passionate,  and 
he  resolved  to  gain  the  object  of  his  love, 
either  by  fair  means  or  foul.  He  visited  the 
Jolmsons  several  times  afterwards,  and  was 
informed  that  the  wedding  day  had  been  ap- 
pointed; and  nothing  remained  for  him  but 
to  acquiesce,  or  strive  to  get  possession  of 
Sarah  by  force  or  stratagem.  His  plan  wa^] 
soon  laid. 

Ascertaining  the  particular  day  upon  which^ 

15 


170  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

the  wedding  was  to  take  place,  the  young 
chief  resolved  to  get  the  aid  of  a  few  young 
men  of  his  tribe,  and  carry  off  the  bride  the 
night  before  it.  The  day  approached  and  the 
happy  couple  were  all  joyful  expectation. 
They  believed  that  the  wishes  of  long  years 
were  about  to  be  gratified.  Samuel  Blake 
spent  the  day  before  the  happy  one,  at  John- 
son's cabin,  arranging  with  Sarah  things  that 
had  been  arranged  very  frequently  before ; 
and  he  did  not  leave  it  until  the  shades  of 
evening  were  thickening  around.  Old  Blake 
intended  to  remain  all  night  with  Johnson, 
to  be  ready  for  the  journey  of  the  morrow. 
Sarah  accompanied  Samuel  to  a  considerable 
distance  from  the  cabin,  and  he  reluctantly 
bade  her  adieu.  She  then  turned  to  pursue 
her  way  home. 

Oconostota,  with  his  friends  had  been  lurk- 
ing around  the  neighborhood  during  the  after- 
noon. He  had  seen  the  lovers  leave  the  cabin 
together,  and  he  followed  them  at  a  short 
distance,  like  a  beast  of  prey,  watching  his 
opportunity.     When  he   saw  Samuel  Blake 


THE  bride's  rescue.  171 

leave  Sarah,  he  gave  a  signal,  resembling  the 
voice  of  a  well-known  forest-bird,  and  col- 
lected his  accomplices.  He  then  stole  silently 
to  the  edge  of  the  wood  near  which  he  knew 
Sarah  must  pass,  and  waited  for  her.  The 
young  girl  came  on  trippingly,  as  if  she  had 
no  care  in  the  world.  Suddenly,  she  was 
seized,  and  before  she  could  shriek,  hurried 
into  the  wood.  She  saw  the  forms  of  the  red 
men,  and  guessed  their  object.  She  shrieked 
for  help,*as  they  hurried  her  swiftly  through 
the  wood ;  but  there  appeared  no  help  near. 
On  they  went,  until  they  reached  the  end  of  the 
wood,  where  the  prairie  opened  before  them. 
Horses  were  waiting.  The  red  men  mounted, 
Oconostota  placing  the  almost  fainting  form 
of  Sarah  upon  the  horse,  before  him.  Away 
they  went  like  the  wind.  It  was  a  moonlight 
evening,  and  as  Oconostota  turned  to  see  if 
any  one  was  pursuing,  he  caught  sight  of  a 
blaze,  rising  above  the  dark  trees,  and 
knew  at  once  that  one  of  his  men,  more 
devilish  than  the  rest,  had  contrived  to  set 
fire   to   Johnson's   cabin.      He   thought    he 


1  72  STORIES  OP  THE  INDIANS. 

heard  the  sound  of  other  horses'  feet  far  be- 
Jiind ;  but  could  not  distinguish  any  one  in 
the  hasty  glance  he  cast  behind  him.  The 
sounds  increased,  and  seemed  to  grow  nearer. 
Then  Oconostota  turned  and  saw  the  forms 
of  three  mounted  men  urging  their  horses  to 
the  greatest  speed. 

At  this  critical  moment,  the  young  chief's 
horse  stumbled  and  fell,  Oconostota,  with 
Sarah  in  his  arms,  leaping  to  the  ground  just 
in  time  to  save  himself  from  being  crushed. 
This  checked  the  progress  of  the  whole  party, 
and  ere  Oconostota  could  resume  his  seat,  he 
saw  the  pursuers  were  close  upon  his  party. 
It  was  in  vain  to  think  of  escape  by  jQiight. 
The  Indians  were  six  in  number,  and  the 
pursuers  were  but  three.  The  chances  were 
in  Oconostota's  favor.  But  the  pursuers  all 
had  rifles,  while  two  of  the  Indians  had  only 
bows  and  arrows. 

On  came  the  hunters,  and  a  volley  was  ex- 
changed. Two  of  the  Indians  fell  from  their 
horses,  and  it  was  evident  that  a  third  was 
seriously,  if  not  fatally  wounded.     Samuel 


THE  bride's  rescue.  173 

Blake  received  an  arrow  in  his  left  arm,  but 
it  did  not  disable  him.  Old  Johnson  and 
Blake  reloaded,  and  delivered  their  fire  with 
an  uijerring  aim.  Then  they  rushed  upon 
them  with  their  rifles,  clubbed  and  laid  about 
them  with  tremendous  effect.  Oconostota, 
leaving  Sarah  upon  the  horse  which  he  had 
ridden,  and  mounted  that  of  one  of  his  fallen 
mends.  Young  Blake'  soon  distinguished 
his  form  and  fired  his  rifle  as  he  rushed  upon 
him.  The  shot  broke  the  arm  of  the  young 
chief,  but  he  gallantly  drew  his  knife  and 
closed  with  his  antagonist.  A  desperate 
struggle  ensued.  The  young  men  fell  to  the 
ground  almost  beneath  the  horses'  feet,  and 
rolled  over  and  over  like  wild  cats  in  a  death 
struggle.  At  length  Blake  obtained  the  knife, 
and  plunged  it  into  the  breast  of  his  foe. 
Theii  he  arose  to  look  around  for  his  friends. 
But  one  of  the  Indians  had  escaped  by  flight ; 
the  rest  were  all  dead.  Johnson  was  unhurt, 
and  standing  beside  his  daughter's  horse. 
Old  Blake  was  wounded  in  the  shoulder,  and 
lea,mng  against  his  horse. 

15* 


174  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

No  time  was  to  be  lost.  The  Indian  who 
had  escaped  would  inform  his  people  of  the 
death  of  Oconostota,  and  a  war-party  might 
be  expected  to  set  out  in  pursuit  of  them. 
Samuel  Blake  first  ascertained  that  Sarah 
was  unhurt,  then  helped  his  father  to  mount 
his  horse,  and  then  mounted  himself.  John- 
son placed  his  daughter  upon  his  horse,  and 
the  party  dashed  off  on  their  return.  After 
a  hard  ride,  they  reached  the  edge  of  the 
wood,  dismounted  and  hurried  through  it  with 
almost  the  speed  that  the  Indians  had  used 
in  carrying  off  the  bride.  Their  course  was 
directed  towards  Blake's  cabin,  where  they 
intended  to  join  Mrs.  Johnson,  and  at  once 
set  off  for  the  settlement.  They  passed  near 
Johnson's  cabin,  and  saw  that  it  was  almost 
reduced  to  ashes.  They  arrived  at  Blake's 
cabin,  and  there  found  Mrs.  Johnson,  who 
was  filled  with  anxiety  for  the  fate  of  her 
child.  Congratulations  and  tears  of  joy  fol- 
lowed the  meeting.  But  there  was  little  time 
for  indulging  in  these. 

Things  were  soon  arranged  for  starting  for 


THE  bkide's  rescue.  175 

the  settlement,  though  most  of  the  party  were 
suffering  severely  from  fatigue.  They  started. 
We  need  not  detail  the  trials  and  dangers  of 
that  journey.  They  jvere  terrible,  but  borne 
with  patience  and  fortitude.  The  whole  party 
•reached  the  settlement  just  after  daylight, 
were  kindly  received  by  the  inhabitants,  and 
their  wants  supplied.  Old  Blake's  wound  in 
the  shoulder  was  not  dangerous,  and  with  the 
careful  attention  of  his  friends,  he  soon  re- 
covered. His  son  suffered  much  from  the 
wound  in  his  arm,  which  was  too  long  ne- 
glected. Samuel  and  Sarah  were  married  as 
soon  as  they  could  find  it  convenient  to  seek 
the  minister  of  the  village. 

The  Indians  were  for  a  short  time  much 
exasperated  at  the  death  of  their  young 
prince  and  his  friends ;  but  his  father  was  a 
wise  and  noble  man.  He  told  his  warriors 
that  Oconostota  had  merited  death  by  his 
treacherous  conduct;  and  that  they  would 
have  acted  in  the  same  manner  as  the  white 
hunters  did,  had  any  of  their  children  been 
stolen  from  them.     He  sent  a  messenge"r  to 


176  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

Johnson,  professing  the  continuance  of  his 
friendship,  and  inviting  him  and  his  friends 
to  return  to  their  homes,  where  he  would 
ensure  their  protection.  After  some  delay, 
they  complied  with  the  wishes  of  the  generous 
chief,  and  returned  to  their  cabins  in  the  wil- 
derness. Johnson's  old  cabin  was  re-built; 
Blake  removed  to  a  clearing  nearer  Johnson's, 
and  occupied  by  Sarah  and  her  husband. 

It  remains  to  be  explained  how  the  hunters 
received  timely  notice  of  the  abduction  of 
Sarah.  "When  Samuel  Blake  left  her  to  pur- 
sue his  route  homeward,  he  walked  rather 
slowly,  busy  thinking  of  his  happy  future. 
Suddenly  it  occurred  to  him,  that  there  was 
one  little  matter  he  had  forgotten  to  mention 
to  Sarah,  and  he  returned  swiftly  with  the 
hope  of  overtaking  her  before  she  reached  her 
house.  A  shriek  broke  on  his  ear  before  he 
had  proceeded  far,  and  with  strange  convic- 
tion, he  knew  it  came  from  Sarah.  He  hur- 
ried swiftly  onward,  reached  the  cabin,  and 
inquired  for  Sarah'.  She  was  not  there.  The 
mother  guessed  the  startling  truth ;  because 


THE  bride's  rescue.  177 

Bhe  thought  she  had  seen  the  Indians  lurking 
near  the  cabin  during  the  day.  Old  Johnson, 
Blake,  and  Samuel  grasped  a  rifle  each  ;  Mrs. 
Johnson  was  directed  to  take  her  two  bold 
and  faithful  dogs,  and  an  extra  gun,  and  pro- 
ceed towards  Blake's  cabin,  where  she  would 
be  safer  than  in  her  own ;  and  then  the  hun- 
ters hurried  out,  secured  the  horses  which 
had  been  caught  upon  the  prairie  and  kept 
in  a  small  stable  near  the  cabin,  and  pro- 
ceeded through  the  wood  towards  the  Indian 
village.  They  reached  the  prairie,  caught 
sight  of  the  flying  Indians,  and  after  a  hard 
ride  and  fight,  rescued  the  bride  as  before 
described. 

The  cabin  was  not  set  on  fire  until  some 
time  after  the  hunters  had  left  it.  Mrs.  John- 
son possessed  a  bold  and  masculine  spirit, 
and  she  ventured  upon  her  dangerous  journey 
without  fear.  She  met  with  no  obstruction 
and  reached  Blake's  cabin  a  considerable 
time  before  the  return  of  the  pursuing  party. 
Oconostota's  death  was  regretted  by  the  young 
men  of  his  tribe,  but  his  father  effectually 


178 


STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


screened  the  white  men  from  their  vengeance, 
and  lived  in  peace  with  them  until  his  death. 
The  young  couple  lived  happily  together  in 
their  forest  home.  Samuel  Blake  continued 
to  hunt  for  a  livelihood,  and  his  rewards  were 
sufficient  to  bring  plenty  and  content  to  his 
household.  He  often  visited  the  village  of 
the  tribe  to  which  Oconostota  belonged,  and 
by  favors  and  presents  soon  won  the  esteem 
and  regard  of  the  red  men ;  they  being  fully 
convinced  that  the  young  chief  was  justly 
punished  for  a  wilful  wrong. 


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rONDEEGA'S  GRATITUDE. 


HE  inhabitants  of 
the  settlement  of 
.  Cocheeco,  in  New 
Hampshire,  lived  for  a 
few  years  in  large  block- 
houses, well  adapted  for 
the  purpose  of  defence  against 
the  Indians.  But  a  few  of 
the  bolder  spirits,  encouraged  by  the  long 
peace  with  the  red  men,  moved  their  families 

16  (181) 


182  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS, 

into  log  houses  of  their  own  construction. 
The  furthest  of  the  huts  from  the  garrison 
was  built  by  a  Mr.  Bray,  an  Englishman.  On 
one  occasion,  Mr.  Bray  and  his  wife  left  home, 
leaving  Eebecca,  their  only  child,  in  charge 
of  her  Aunt  Mary. 

Little  Kebecca  was,  of  course,  the  pet  of 
her  aunt.  When  the  work  of  the  house  had 
been  completed,  the  latter  would  teach  the 
little  girl  some  mysteries  of  needle  work,  or 
explain  some  passages  in  the  Scriptures  for 
her  benefit.  One  day,  Aunt  Mary  had  just 
finished  reading  the  verse,  in  the  fifth  chapter 
of  Matthew,  which  says,  "Blessed  are  the 
merciful,  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy,"  when 
an  Indian  burst  into  the  room,  and  throwing 
himself  panting  at  her  feet,  exclaimed,  in 
broken  English,  "for  mercy's  sake,  hide  me, 
the  warriors  are  on  my  path.'' 

Aunt  Mary  was  not  disposed  to  grant  his 
request.  In  common  with  all  the  early 
settlers,  she  hated  and  feared  the  Indians. 
But  Kebecca  earnestly  plead  for  him,  saying 
that  he  would  be  killed  by  Major  Waldron's 


yondeega's  gratitude.  183 

men  from  the  garrison.  A  loud  shout  was 
heard  in  the  distance,  and  the  Indian  renewed 
his  entreaties  for  a. refuge.  ''Blessed  are  the 
merciful,  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy,"  re- 
peated Eebecca,  and  Aunt  Mary  then  ex- 
pressed her  wish  :to  secrete  the  Indian  from 
his  pursuers.  The  little  girl  then  took  the 
red  man  by  the  hand,  led  him  up  into  the 
loft,  made  him  get  into  a  box  containing 
shelled  corn,  and  then  spread  the  corn  over 
him  in  such  a  manner,  that  he  could  not  be 
seen.  She  then  descended,  and  resumed  her 
reading  to  Aunt  Mary  as  if  nothing  had  oc- 
curred. A  moment  after,  the  door  was  burst 
open,  and  the  pursuers  entered,  exclaiming, 
"Is  the  villainous  redskin  here?" 

The  little  girl  expressed  her  surprise,  and 
asked  what  redskin. 

"  The  Indian  who  has  escaped,"  answered 
a  youth;  "we  have  lost  his  track;  but  Mr. 
Gove  says  he  saw  the  top  of  his  head  through 
the  wood,  and  we  came  here." 

Eebecca  strove  to  divert  their  attention  by 
saying  she  heard  a  noise,  just  then,  of  some- 


184  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

thing  running  around  the  house.  Mr.  Gove 
persisted  in  saying  that  he  believed  the  In- 
dian to  be  in  the  house,  and  to  satisfy  him 
one  of  the  young  men  proposed  that  he  should 
go  up  stairs  and  search  for  him.  Rebecca 
accompanied  him.  Gove  searched  every  nook 
and  corner  of  the  loft,  and  even  lifted  up  some 
of  the  corn  from  the  box  where  the  Indian 
was  concealed ;  but  at  length  gave  it  up,  de- 
scended the  stairs  and  joined  his  friends. 
The  pursuers  then  sought  their  victim  else- 
where. 

That  night,  Eebecca  brought  the  red  man 
from  his  hiding-place,  and  making  him  pro- 
mise to  spare  the  mothers  and  babes  who 
might  fall  into  his  power,  let  him  go,  with  a 
heart  filled  with  gratitude. 

In  explanation  of  the  Indian's  situation, 
we  may  say  that  the  colonial  government, 
fearful  of  another  outbreak  among  the  In- 
'  dians,  and  jealous  of  their  numbers,  had  or- 
dered Major  Waldron,  the  commander  of  the 
post,  to  put  the  strange  red  men,  who  came 
there,   to  death,    and   by   a   stratagem,  the 


YONDEEGA^S    GRATITUDE.  186 

Major  had  succeeded  in  killing  all  but  this 
one,  who  was  preserved  by  the  efforts  -of  little 
Rebecca. 

Time  flew  by,  and  Eebecca  grew  to  be  a 
fine  specimen  of  feminine  maturity.  Her 
parents  died,  and  she  was  left  to  the  guar- 
dianship of  Major  Waldron.  She  resided 
with  Aunt  Mary,  to  whose  care  she  had  been 
confided  by  a  mother's  dying  breath;  and 
though  the  major  had  made  many  efibrts  to 
convince  them  that  the  garrison  was  a  much 
safer  place,  they  still  kept  the  old  house.  The 
flower  in  the  wilderness  did  not  ''waste  its 
sweetness  on  the  desert  air."  On  the  con- 
trary, Rebecca's  charms  had  already  made 
several  captives,  one  of  whom  was  the  only 
son  of  Major  Waldron. 

George  Waldron  had  been  educated  in  En- 
gland, had  moved  in  refined  circles,  travelled 
three  years,  and  returned  to  America,  with 
personal  advantages  which  might  have  made 
many  a  conquest  in  the  field  of  love.  He 
saw  Rebecca  soon  after  his  arrival,  and  was 
immediately   "smitten  to  the  heart."     But 

16^^ 


186  STORIES  OP  THE  INDIANS. 

the  beauty  could  only  give  him  a  sister's  love ; 
for  her  -heart  was  in  possession  of  another. 
Morris  Green  had  been  her  playmate  in  child- 
hood, and  in  riper  years,  her  confidant  and 
friend.  They  had  not  been  formally  plighted, 
but  they  felt  that  they  were  united  by  stronger 
bonds  than  words.  A  few  days  after  Wal- 
dron's  arrival,  Morris  saved  him  from  the 
gripe  of  a  bear,  that  was  about  to  spring 
upon  him,  by  shooting  the  animal,  and  from 
that  time  the  two  young  men  became  warm, 
self-denying  friends.  A  few  weeks  after  the 
adventure  with  the  bear,  George  Waldron 
obtained  for  Morris  Green,  a  midshipman's 
warrant  for  his  Majesty's  frigate  Cyclops, 
then  lying  at  Portsmouth,  with  orders  to  join 
the  squadron  in  the  West  Indies. 

Morris  quickly  and  joyfully  informed  Ee- 
becca  of  his  good  fortune,  and  prepared  to 
start  for  Portsmouth.  Hand-in-hand  he  and 
Kebecca  visited  the  grave-yard,  where  slept 
the  remains  of  her  loved  parents.  There  they 
exchanged  vows  of  constancy,  and  parted 
sadly,  though  hopefully.     Rebecca  watched 


yondeega's  gratitude.  187 

he  retreating  form  of  her  lover  until  it  was 
ost  in  the  forest,  and  then,  as  she  sank  upon 
her  mother's  grave,  her  tears  flowed  freely. 

A  voice  near  Kebecca,  exclaimed,  "  A  pretty 
scene,  upon  my  word!"  She  sprang  to  her 
feet  and  faced  the  intruder.  A  mixture  of 
scorn  and  fear  was  upon  her  features,  and  she 
at  length  turned  to  fly.  But  the  bold  intruder 
seized  her  hand,  and  said,  ''  Now  my  pretty 
bird,  this  meeting  is  too  opportune  to  part  so 
soon.  What  with  your  own  shyness,  the 
constant  watch  of  that  old  hypocrite,  Waldron, 
who  means  to  coax  or  force  you  to  marry  the 
sapient  George,  and  the  close  attentions  of 
that  very  sentimental  youth  who  has  just 
left  you,  I  have  not  the  smallest  chance  of 
urging  my  own  suit." 

"  Oh,  that  can  never,  never  be,"  answered 
Rebecca,  hardly  conscious  of  what  she  said, 
"for  I  already  love  another." 

" Hear  me,  Rebecca,"  said  the  other,  "your 
beauty  would  become  a  higher  sphere  than 
that  stripling  can  give  you  to  move  in.  At 
the  death  of  my  father,  I  shall  become  Lord 


188  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

Marsden ;  and  at  the  death  of  my  uncle,  who 
is  much  his  senior,  his  title  of  Marquis  of 
Winchelsea  will  also  revert  to  me.  Think 
how  different  would  be  your  position  as  Mar- 
chioness of  Winchelsea,  surrounded  wdth 
wealth  and  splendor,  than  as  the  wife  of  that 
poor  boy." 

"I  have  promised  to  become  the  wife  of 
another,"  replied  Kebecca,  "  and  I  would  not 
break  the  promise,  if  I  could.  I  can  love  you 
as  a  sister,  but  never  as  your  wife !" 

"It  is  enough,  Eebecca,"  said  the  young 
man,  "  you  reject  the  love  of  a  man  whom 
you  could  have  moulded  to  your  will.  But  I 
am  not  to  be  slighted  with  impunity.  Tou 
are  in  my  power,  and  shall  rue  the  hour  when 
you  dared  to  scorn  me."  As  he  uttered  these 
words,  he  sprang  towards  her,  but  stumbled 
over  the  head-stone  of  her  mother's  grave  and 
fell  headlong ;  while  Eebecca,  pale  with  terror, 
fled,  and  never  paused  until  safe  within  the 
cottage. 

Edward  Sinclair,  the  intruder  upon  Ee- 
becca's  privacy,  had  been  residing  at  Wal- 


yondeega's  gratitude.  189 

dron's  dbont  a  year ;  consigned  to  the  Major's 
care,  it  was  vvhispered,  by  his  father,  as  a 
sort  of  penance  for  certain  conduct  which 
was  unbecoming  the  future  Lord  of  Marsden 
Hall.  Well-informed,  frank,  and  jovial,  he 
soon  rendered  himself  a  favorite  with  all  those 
in  the  settlement,  who  considered  eccentricity 
natural  to  a  jovial  companion,  and  did  not 
question  the  justice  of  his  acts.  Being  fond 
of  hunting,  Sinclair  soon  made  friends  of  the 
Indians,  with  whom  he  would  hunt  for  weeks 
at  a  time.  They  called  him  !N"eddo.  That 
Sinclair  was  in  love  with  Eebccca,  the  reader 
may  gather  from  his  language  towards  her. 
But  there  was  ever  a  something  evil  in  his 
nature  which  made  her  shun  his  presence. 

A  few  days  after  Morris's  departure,  when 
Kebecca  thought  him  "far  o'er  the  briny 
deep,"  she  was  surprised  to  see  him  enter  the 
cottage,  covered  with  dust,  and  throw  himself 
upon  a  chair.  She  and  Aunt  Mary  expressed 
their  surprise,  and  asked  why  he  was  not  in 
the  frigate.  In  reply,  he  handed  Eebecca  a 
letter,  which,   he   said,    would   explain   the 


190  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

matter  better  than  he  could.     The  letter  was 
read  as  follows : 

"  If  Morris  Green  really  feels  but  half  the 
love  he  professes  for  Kebecca  Bray,  he  will 
not,  by  leaving  the  country,  expose  her  to  the 
schemes  of  a  crafty  villain.  The  writer  of 
this  has  heard  from  Waldron's  own  lips  that 
he  only  assisted  to  get  rid  of  him,  and  that 
before  the  frigate  will  have  joined  the  squad- 
ron, she  will  either  by  persuasion  or  force,  be 
made  the  wife  of  George  Waldron.  If  you 
are  wise,  you  will  act  upon  this  warning  of 

''  A  Secret  Friend." 

"At  first,"  said  Morris,  "I  thought  this  all 
a  hoax ;  but  soon  began  to  regard  it  as  a 
timely  and  truthful  warning.  I  was  down 
at  the  shoals  last  week,  and  I  knew  that  the 
ship  would  pass  near  the  islands,  that  a  good 
swimmer  could  easily  reach  the  shore,  where 
there  were  two  or  three  fishing  schooners 
anchored,  which  could  bring  me  back.  In 
the  middle  of  the  night,  I  slipped  through  a 
port,  and  swam  ashore.      As  the  ship  sailed 


yondeega's  gratitude.  191 

like  a  race  horse,  they  will  get  so  far  before 
they  miss  me,  they  will  not  turn  back  for  a 
single  man.  "Morris  said  much  more  to  silence 
the  fears  of  his  anxious  friends,  who  at  length 
set  about  preparing  food  for  the  half-famished 
runaway,  when  the  door  opened,  and  Edward 
Sinclair  rushed  in,  crying, 

"Eun,  Morris,  run!  the  bloodhounds  are 
at  your  heels."  Morris  sprang  to  his  feet, 
and  rushed  to  the  back  door,  which  opened 
on  the  forest ;  but  Sinclair  pushed  him  back, 
and  in  a  few  moments  a  party  of  men  entered, 
arrested  Morris,  as  a  deserter,  and  bore  him 
off,  leaving  Aunt  Mary  and  Kebecca  wringing 
their  hands,  and  crying  bitterly.  As  soon  as 
they  had  left  the  house,  Eebecca  fell  on  the 
floor  in  a  fainting  fit.  When  she  recovered, 
Sinclair  was  bending  over  her,  with  com- 
passion and  respect  upon  his  features. 
.  Sinclair  explained  that  he  had  tried  to  put 
the  pursuing  party  upon  a  false  scent,  and 
save  Morris ;  that  the  deserter  would  be  con- 
demned by  a  court-martial ;  yet  in  conside- 
ration of  the  motive,  they  would  certainly  re- 


192  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

commend  him  to  the  mercy  of  his  majesty ; 
in  which  case  he  would  appeal  to  his  father, 
whose  influence  he  represented  as  all  power- 
ful at  court,  and  a  pardon  could  easily  be  pro- 
cured. Kebecca  grasped  eagerly  at  such  a 
hope,  and  began  to  look  upon  the  one  who 
held  it  forth  as  a  brother. 

The  court-martial  was  held  in  Boston  har- 
bor ;  the  proof  of  desertion  was  positive,  and 
Morris  was  sentenced  to  death,  without  a  hint 
being  given  of  any  appeal  to  royal  mercy. 
Eebecca  received  the  terrible  news,  as  the 
lily  receives  the  blast  of  the  tempest — it  al- 
most crushed  her  spirit.  She  did  not — could 
not  weep  until  the  morning  of  the  day  that 
was  to  give  her  lover  to  the  arms  of  death. 
Her  feelings  then  found  vent  in  tears.  She 
left  the  cottage,  and  walked  quickly  towards 
the  house  of  Major  Waldron,  where  she  found 
the  old  Aian  writing.  Throwing  herself  be- 
fore him,  she  clasped  his  knees,  and  implored 
him  to  save  Morris  Green.  Waldron  answered 
that  he  could  not.  Morris  had  had  a  fair 
trial,  and  it  would  be  unjust  in  him,  suppos- 


yondeega's  gratitude.  193 

ing  he  could,  to  change  the  verdict.  Eebecca 
continued — 

"You  can  if  you  will.  I  know  you  have 
wished  me  to  marry  George  instead  of  Morris 
Green ;  and  now  I  will  promise,  that  if  you 
will  procure  a  pardon  for  Morris,  the  day  he 
is  free  from  prison  I  will  marry  George." 

This  chimed  in  with  Waldron's  schemes. 
It  had  long  been  his  aim  to  bring  about  a 
union  between  his  son  George  and  Rebecca. 
He  snatched  eagerly  the  opportunity,  and 
said  he  would  try  what  he  could  do.  A  mes- 
senger was  sent  in  all  haste  to  Portsmouth, 
and  the  officers  composing  the  court-martial 
were  eagerly  persuaded  to  reprieve  the  pri- 
soner until  a  petition  could  be  sent  to  the 
king.  But  months  were  to  pass  before  an 
answer  would  be  received,  during  which  Mor- 
ris must  remain  in  prison,  leaving  the  field 
clear  to  his  rivals. 

Sinclair  now  spent  much  of  his  time  with 
Rebecca,  who  regarded  him  with  the  most 
friendly  feelings,  except  when  he  urged  his 
suit,  when  a  revulsion  of  feeling  made  her 

17 


194  STOEIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

suspect  that  self-interest  was  at  the  root  of 
all  his  vaunted  service  for  her  and  Morris. 
As  for  George  Waldron,  his  feelings  were  in 
a  state  of  confusion  not  to  be  described.  He 
loved  Kebecca,  deeply — devotedly;  and  to 
secure  her  happiness  and  that  of  his  friend 
Morris,  he  felt  that  no  sacrifice  could  be  too. 
great.  Tet  he  hoped  to  make  Kebecca  his 
wife,  and  could  not  resolve  to  break  the  en- 
gagement his  father  had  made. 

At  length  a  vessel  arrived,  bearing  a  full 
pardon  for  the  deserter;  and  Major  Waldron 
now  required  of  Eebecca  the  performance  of 
her  part  of  the  contract.  It  was  agreed  that 
the  marriage  should  not  take  place  until  the 
day  after  Morris's  return.  Morris  had  been 
aware  that  a  petition  had  been  sent  to  the 
king  on  his  behalf,  but  he  knew  nothing  of 
the  terms  until  the  morning  of  his  release, 
and  then  he  felt  that  he  would  much  rather 
have  died  than  consented  to  live  upon  such 
terms.  However,  he  resolved  to  see  Kebecca 
once  more,  and  then  leave  the  country  for  ever. 

He  reached  the  cottage,  where  he  expecte  I 


yondeega's  gratitude.  195 

to  meet  Eebecca,  but  found  it  deserted,  and 
in  the  utmost  confusion.  Surprised,  he 
turned  from  the  cottage  to  seek  an  explana- 
tion, when  a  footstep  caused  him  to  raise  his 
head,  and  he  stood  face  to  face  with  George 
Waldron.  They  each  grasped  the  other's 
hand ;  for  friendship  was  still  strong  in  both. 

"I  have  been  very  wrong  and  wicked," 
said  George  Waldron,  ''but  I  have  suffered 
for  it.  Yesterday,  after  a  long  struggle,  I 
resolved  to  release  Eebecca  from  an  engage- 
ment, into  which  I  knew  she  had  been  forced. 
I  did  so.  But  now  she  is  gone.  Last  night 
Aunt  Mary  awoke  and  found  herself  alone ; 
she  gave  the  alarm,  and  people  have  hunted 
for  her  ever  since.  I  fear  she  has  been  car- 
ried off  by  the  Indians." 

Morris  was  almost  stunned  by  this  unlocked 
for  calamity.  At  length  he  grasped  the  hand 
of  his  friend  and  said,  "We  are  friends — 
brothers ;  together  we  will  go  and  rescue  her 
or  share  her  fate."  A  slight  noise  at  this  in- 
stant caused  them  to  turn,  and  standing  near 
them,  his  arms  folded  on  his  breast,  ids  keen 


196  STORIES  or  THE  INDIANS. 

eye  fixed  upon  them,  was  an  Indian,  whom 
they  recognised  as  one  who  was  often  about 
the  settlement. 

"Has  the  pale-face's  council  fire  gone 
out,  or  are  their  braves  turned  squaws,  that 
the  foe  enters  the  wigwam  and  steals  their 
*'WildEose,"  and  no  warriors  start  on  the 
trail?'' 

"  Do  you  know  any  thing  of  Eebecca  Bray," 
demanded  Morris. 

"  Tondeega's  eyes  were  open.  N'eddo's  trail 
and  the  Wild  Eose's  trail  were  one. 

George  started.  He  knew  that  Edward 
Sinclair  had  two  days  previous,  joined  a  hunt- 
ing party ;  but  he  supposed  that  he  had  goue 
away  to  avoid  being  present  at  Eebecca' s 
nuptials.  ''The  false-hearted  villain!"  said 
he,  *'  I  will  follow  him,  and  he  shall  yet  feel 
the  weight  of  my  arm." 

*'!N'o,  no,"  said  Tondeega,  with  a  flashing 
eye  and  knotted  brow.  "N'o  pale-face  touch 
him.  Tondeega's  tomahawk  is  sharp,  and 
his  rifle  never  fails  it  aim.  Tondeega  will 
kill  hini  like  a  dog."     The  features  of  the  In- 


yondeega's  gratitude.  197 

dian  then  assumed  an  expression  of  sorrow. 
"  Yondeega  had  a  daughter ;  she  was  fair  as 
the  spring  flowers,  and  cheerful  as  the  song 
of  birds.  The  Yengese  came  and  spake  with 
his  forked  tongue,  the  maiden  listened,  and 
her  heart  changed.  She  has  left  the  wigwam 
of  her  tribe  to  follow  the  stranger." 

From  this  the  young  men  gathered  that 
Sinclair  had  been  as  false  to  his  red  as  to  his 
white  friends,  and  having  signified  to  the  In- 
dian that  they  would  follow  where  he  led,  they 
set  off  in  pursuit  of  the  lost  flower. 

Kebecca  had  risen  early,  and  was  taking  a 
short  walk  near  the  cottage,  when  she  was 
seized  and  borne  off  by  some  Indians.  They 
marched  about  eight  hours,  bearing  Rebecca 
on  a  rude  litter,  until  they  came  to  a  large 
sheet  of  water  called  Lake  Winnipiseogee, 
where  they  embarked  in  a  canoe  and  rowed 
to  an  island,  on  which  stood  two  or  three  de- 
serted Indian  huts.  In  one  of  these,  Eebecca 
was  left,  with  two  Indians.  In  a  moment, 
the  door  opened,  and  Edward  Sinclair,  stripped 
of  his  Indian  disguise,  stood  before  her.     He 

17* 


'm 


STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


confessed  that  he  had  stolen  her.  But  it  was 
because  he  could  not  live  without  her,  and  he 
wanted  to  take  her  to  Europe  with  him.  In 
vain  the  young  girl  entreated,  plead  her  at- 
tachrflent  to  another,  and  her  want  of  affec- 
tion for  Sinclair. 

'*  And  do  you  think,"  said  he  fiercely,  "  that 
I  could  bear  to  see  you  the  wife  of  Morris 
Green  ?  It  was  I  who  advised  him  to  desert, 
and  who  attempted  to  j)i'e^^6nt  ^^^  froi^a 
getting  a  pardon.  But  I  will  be  revenged 
yet.  In  the  meantime,  you  are  in  my  power, 
and  from  this  place  you  shall  never  go,  except 
as  my  wife — " 

The  sound  of  light  footsteps  interrupted 
his  words,  and  the  next  instant  a  young  In- 
dian girl,  breathless  with  haste,  rushed  into 
the  hut,  exclaiming,  "Fly,  fly!  the  pale-faces 
are  in  pursuit."  Sinclair  sprang  forward, 
as  if  meditating  flight ;  but  a  moment's  pause 
seemed  to  alter  his  intention,  and  he  said, 
pointingtoEebecca,  "Hide  her,  Tarro,  and  I 
will  meet  them  here." 

The  young  Indian  frowned,  as  she  replied^ 


yondeega's  gratitude.  199 

"Tarro  no  hide  her;  pale-face  no  hurt  her." 
A  deep -breathed  curse  escaped  the  young 
man,  and  a  fierce  glance  shot  from  his  eye; 
but  the  next  moment  it  yielded  to  a^  mild, 
tender  expression,  as  he  spoke  a  few  words 
to  Tarro  in  her  own  tongue. 

Tarro  smilingly  listened  to  his  false  words, 
which  were,  in  fact,  no  less  than  a  promise, 
that  if  she  would  hide  Rebecca,  he  would 
marry  her,  join  the  tribe  and  become  a  great 
chief.  She  instantly  advanced  towards  the 
white  maiden,  and  in  spite  of  her  struggles, 
bandaged  her  mouth,  and  drew  her  into  a 
covert  close  to  the  hut.  Sinclair  saw  all  this, 
and  then  taking  his  rifle,  he  advanced  to  meet 
Morris  and  George,  who  had  just  emerged 
from  the  forest  into  the  clearing  in  front  of 
the  hut.  "What  is  the  matter,  George?"  he 
asked. 

"Edward,'  demanded  George,  sternly,  "do 
you  know  any  thing  of  Eebecca  Bray?" 

"How  can  I  know  any  thing  of  her?" 
mildly  replied  Sinclair;  "you  know  I  started 


200  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

off  to  hunt  the  day  before  you  were  to  be 
married ;  but — " 

The  speaker  paused ;  the  bullet  of  Tondee- 
ga,  who,  having  tarried  behind  to  secure  the 
canoe,  had  just  caught  sight  of  his  foe,  had 
started  on  its  fatal  errand ;  but  it  did  not 
not  reach  its  destined  victim.  Yarro,  who 
saw  all  that  had  passed,  gave  a  slight  scream, 
and  throwing  her  arms  around  the  neck  of 
her  beloved,  shielded  him  from  danger  by  re- 
ceiving the  ball  herself.  They  laid  her  upon 
the  grass.  Sinclair  bent  over  her,  grief  and 
remorse  painted  on  his  features,  while  the 
rest  of  the  party,  including  Eebecca,  who  had 
contrived  to  unbandage  herself,  stood  looking 
on  in  mournful  silence.  Tarro  opened  her 
eyes,  a  smile  of  joy  stole  over  her  features,  as 
she  met  the  gaze  of  Sinclair,  and  she  mur- 
mured— "Tarro  very  happy,  for  the  Great 
Spirit  has  smiled  on  her;"  and  with  that 
happy  smile  still  lingering  on  her  features, 
the  poor  girl  passed  to  the  "  spirit  land." 

A  moment  of  silence  ensued,  and  the  next, 
Sinclair  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  darted  into 


yondeega's  gratitude.  201 

the  forest,  pursued  by  Yondeega,  who  soon, 
however,  returned,  completely  baffled.  This 
was  the  last  that  was  seen  of  Edward  Sin- 
clair in  this  country ;  although  a  rumor  came 
two  years  afterwards^  that  he  had  fallen  in  a 
duel,  in  England,  with  an  officer  as  reckless 
as  himself 

Tarro  was  buried  on  the  island,  and  then 
the  party  returned  to  the  settlement.  The 
remainder  of  the  story  is  soon  told.  .  Major 
"Waldron  yielded  to  the  entreaties  of  Ee- 
becca  and  Morris,  assisted  by  the  virtuous 
energy  of  George,  and  consented  to  a  union 
of  the  lovers,  who  amid  all  trials,  had  re- 
mained true  to  each  other.  At  the  wedding, 
among  the  number  of  pale  and  red  faces  that 
of  Yondeega  was  recognised,  and  many  thanks 
were  returned  to  him  for  his  generous  conduct. 

"  Pale-face  no  need  feel  grateful.  Wild  Eose 
hide  Yondeega ;  Yondeega  save  Wild  Eose ; 
that  all,"  said  the  Indian.  In  answer  to 
eager  questioning,  he  then  informed  them, 
that  he  had  known  of  ^NTeddo's  designs  in  re- 
gard to  Eebecca,  and  as  soon  as  he  saw  her 


202  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

upon  the  island,  he  recognised  her  as  the  little 
girl  who  had  saved  his  life,  and  resolved  to 
save  her.  He  hurried  to  inform  her  friends, 
and  the  result  is  known.  When  he  had  fini- 
shed his  story,  Eebecca  exclaimed, 

''I  then  found  mercy  by  the  very  person  to 
whom  I  had  shown  mercy." 


UMi 


III  i 


"i  'J  ill 


THE  BURNING  OF  DEERFIELD. 

HE  destruction  of  Deerfield, 
Massachusetts,  during  the 
French  and  Indian  war,  which 
began  in  1B89,  was  one  of  the 
most  daring  exploits  performed 
by  the  Indians  during  that  exterminating 
Btruggle.     In  1703,  the  plan  was  laid  b}^  the 

18  (205) 


206  STOEIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

French  and  their  savage  allies,  to  cut  off  the 
frontier  inhabitants  of  New  England,  from 
one  extremity  to  the  other ;  but  the  design 
was  not  fully  executed.  Though  the  eastern 
settlements  from  Casco  to  Wells  were  de- 
stroyed, yet  the  western  ones  remained  un- 
molested. This  lulled  them  into  a  fatal  se- 
curity. Colonel  Schuyler,  the  noted  English 
agent  among  the  Indians,  received  intelli- 
gence of  a  design  in  Canada  to  fall  upon  Deer- 
field,  he  immediately  informed  the  inhabi- 
tants of  that  settlement,  that  they  might  pre- 
pare for  an  attack.  The  design  was  not  car- 
ried into  execution  during  the  summer,  and 
the  intelligence  was  considered  as  a  false 
alarm.  But  their  destruction  was  reserved 
for  the  winter  of  1704,  when  they  least  ex- 
pected it. 

Deerfield  was  at  that  time  the  most  nor- 
therly settlement  on  the  Connecticut  river,  a 
few  families  at  Northfield  excepted.  Against 
this  place,  M.  Yaudrieul,  governor  of  Canada, 
sent  out  a  party  of  about  three  hundred 
French  and  Indians.     They  were  put  under 


i 


BURNING  OF  DEERFIELD.  207 

the  command  of  Hertel  de  Roueville,,  assisted 
by  his  four  brothers,  all  of  whom  had  been 
well  trained  in  partisan  warfare  by  their 
father,  who  had  been  a  famous  partisan  in 
former  wars.  They  marched  by  way  of  Lake 
Ghamplain,  till  they  came  to  the  stream,  now 
called  Onion  river.  Advancing  up  that  stream 
till  they  passed  over  Connecticut  river,  and 
travelled  on  the  ice  till  they  came  near  to 
Deerfield. 

The  Rev.  John  Williams,  the  minister  of 
Deerfield,  was  apprehensive  of  danger,  and 
attempted  to  impress  the  minds  of  the  people 
with  a  sense  of  it ;  but  did  not  succeed.  Upon 
his  application,  the  government  of  the  pro- 
vince sent  twenty  soldiers  to  aid  in  the  de- 
fence of  the  town.  The  fortifications  were 
some  slight  works  thrown  around  two  or  three 
garrison  houses.  These  were  nearly  covered 
in  some  places  with  drifts  of  snow. 

On  the  29th  of  February,  Roueville  and  his 
party  approached  the  town.  Hovering  near 
it,  he  sent  out  spies  to  gain  intelligence.  The 
watch  kept  the  streets  of  the  town  till  about 


208  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

two  hours  before  day,  and  then,  unfortunately, 
all  of  them  went  to  sleep.  Eoueville,  perceiv- 
ing all  to  be  quiet,  marched  silently  to  the 
attack.  The  snow  was  so  high  that  they  had 
no  difficulty  in  jumping  over  the  walls  of  the 
fortification ;  and  they  immediately  separated 
Into  small  parties  so  as  to  appear  before  each 
house  at  the  same  time. 

The  place  was  completely  surprised ;  and 
the  foe  was  entering  the  houses  before  the 
inhabitants  suspected  their  approach.  The 
resistance  was  trifling  in  most  parts  of  the 
town,  but  one  block-house  being  able  to' hold 
out  against  the  enemy.  The  whole  settle- 
ment was  in  their  possession  in  a  short  time 
after  their  arrival.  Forty-seven  of  the  inha- 
bitants, some  of  w^iom  fought  bravely,  were 
slain,  and  all  the  rest  captured.  For  awhile, 
the  village  was  given  up  to  plunder,  and  then, 
to  complete  the  work,  it  was  set  on  fire.  The 
victors,  with  their  captives,  hastily  retreated 
an  hour  after  sunrise.  A  small  party  of  the 
English  pursued  them,  and  a  skirmish  en- 
sued, in  which  a  few  were  lost  on  both  sides. 


BURNING  OF  DEERFIELD.  209 

But  the  enemy  could  not  be  checked  in  their 
retreat. 

The  distance  from  Deerfield  to  Chambly, 
Canada,  which  was  the  nearest  French  settle- 
ment, was  about  three  hundred  miles.  The 
number  of  prisoners  was  one  hundred  and 
twelve.  Among  the  number  was  the  Eev. 
John  Williams.  As  the  Indians  entered  his 
room,  he  took  down  his  pistol  and  presented 
it  to  the  breast  of  the  foremost,  but  it  missed 
fire.  They  then  took  hold  of  him  and  bound 
him,  naked  as  he  was,  and  thus  kept  him  for 
an  hour.  In  the  meantime  two  of  the  child- 
ren and  a  negro  woman  were  killed.  Mrs. 
Williams,  who  was  hardly  recovered  from 
childbed,  was,  with  the  rest,  marched  for  Ca- 
nada. The  second  day,  in  wading  a-  stream, 
Mrs.  Williams  fainted  and  fell,  but  was 
assisted  along  a  little  further  when,  at  the 
foot  of  a  hill,  she  began  to  falter,  her  savage 
master,  with  one  blow  of  his  tomahawk,  put 
an  end  to  her  miseries.  The  party  was 
twenty-five  days  on  its  march  from  Deerfield 
to  Chambly.     As  they  depended  upon  hunt- 

18* 


210 


STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


ing  for  their  support,  the  prisoners  often  suf- 
fered for  want  of  food  ;  and  the  severity  of  the 
season  added  to  their  trials.  At  length  they 
reached  Chambly,  where  they  were  humanely 
treated  by  the  French  and  their  governor, 
Yaudrieul.  At  dififerent  times,  most  of  the 
prisoners  were  redeemed  and  returned  home. 
Mr.  Williams  and  fifty-seven  others  arrived  at 
Boston,  from  Quebec,  in  1706.  One  of  the 
minister's  daughters,  Eunice,  married  an  In- 
dian, and  became  a  convert  to  the  Catholic 
religion,  which  she  never  would  consent  to 
forsake.  She  frequently  visited  her  friends 
in  J^ew  England  ;  but  uniformly  persisted  in 
wearing  the  blanket,  and  counting  her  beads. 
Deerfield  was  rebuilt  soon  after  its  destruction, 
and  became  a  flourishing  settlement. 


t 


THE  FIRE  WATER. 


THE   FIEE-WATER. 


F  the  red  men  have  been  be- 
nefited by  their  intercourse 
^^  with  the  whites,  they  have 
also  red  much  degrada- 
tion from  the  same  cause. 
Created  with  strong  and  active  physical 
powers,  united  with  keen   sensibility,   they 

(213) 


214  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

have  an  innate  love  of  excitement,  of  which 
the  white  man  has  taken  advantage  to  work 
their  ruin.  For  a  few  bottles  of  any  kind  of 
ardent -Spirits,  which  the  Indians  term  "fire- 
water," keen  traders  have  purchased  the  pro- 
duce of  weeks  of  hunting  and  toil,  and  even 
the  land  which  contains  within  its  bosom  the 
bones  of  the  red  man's  ancestors.  How  many 
of  these  noble  children  of  the  woods,  whose 
native  powers  of  intellect  rivalled  those  of 
the  most  distinguished  orators,  statesmen, 
and  warriors,  among  the  civilized  nations, 
have  become  degraded  in  mind  and  weakened 
in  body  through  the  influence  of  the  evil 
spirit  sent  to  them  by  the  avaricious  and  wiser 
white  men !  See  Logan,  whose  qualities  of 
inind,  and  whose  misfortunes  have  excited  so* 
much  admiration  and  sympathy,  spending 
the  evening  of  his  days  in  beastly  intoxica- 
tion! See  the  mighty  Sagona,  more  widely 
known  as  Red  Jacket,  who  may  be  considered 
as  the  Demosthenes  of  his  race ;  whose  judg- 
ment and  foresight  guided  his  nation  in  many 
an  intricate  negotiation,  and  whose  eloquence 


PONTIAC. 


THE  FIRE-WATER.  217 

has  been  compared  to  the  Niagara,  near 
whose  thundering  tumult  he  was  reared, 
weakened  in  body  and  mind  by  the  "fire- 
water" given  him  by  those  who  feared  his  in- 
fluence !  This  bane  of  the  red  man  has  ever 
been  extended  to  him  by  the  hand  of  civiliza- 
tion; and  those  tribes  which  inhabit  the 
country  nearest  the  citizens  of  the  western 
states  are  fast  melting  away  under  its  blight- 
ing breath.  Occasionally  a  chief  has  arisen 
who  despised  the  "fire-water,''  and  who  in- 
dignantly denounced  those  who  introduced  it 
among  his  people.  Of  one  of  these  we  are 
about  to  speak. 

Pontiac  was  a  chief  of  the  Ottawas,  a  tribe 
which  inhabited  the,  neighborhood  of  Lake 
Erie,  in  the  territory  now  included  in  the 
state  of  Michigan.  But  at  one  time,  he  was  the 
chief  of  a  confederacy,  consisting  of  the  Ot- 
tawas, Miamis,  Chippewas,  Wyandotte s, .  Pot- 
towatomies,  Missisagas,  Shawanese,  Ottaga- 
mies,  and  "Winnebagoes — all  powerful  tribes. 
Pontiac  was  gifted  with  a  great  an^  noble 
spirit,  which  fitted  him  for  command.     He 

19 


218  STOKIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

possessed  a  daring  courage,  tempered  and 
guided  by  wisdom  and  judgment.  Fertile  in 
the  invention  of  means  to  gain  an  end,  he 
was  generally  successful  in  his  undertakings, 
and  became  a  formidable  enemy  to  the  whites, 
whose  encroachments  roused  his  hatred. 

In  the  Indian  war,  which  broke  out  in  1763, 
which  is  justly  denominated  "  Pontiac's  War," 
the  great  chief  appointed  a  commissary,  and 
began  to  make  and  issue  bills  of  credit,  all 
of  which  he  carefully  redeemed.  He  made 
his  bills  or  notes  of  bark,  on  which  was  drawn 
the  figure  of  the  commodity  he  wanted  for  it 
The  shape  of  an  otter  was  drawn  under  that 
of  the  article  wanted,  and  an  otter  was  the 
insignia  of  his  nation.  He  had  also,  with 
great  sagacity,  urged  upon  his  people  the  ne- 
cessity of  dispensing  entirely  with  European 
commodities,  of  having  no  intercourse  with  the 
whites,  and  of  depending  entirely  upon  their 
ancient  modes  of  procuring  sustenance. 

Some  English  traders,  with  a  considerable 
quantitj^  of  brandy  in  bottles,  were  detected 
among  the   Indians,  bartering  "fire-water 


.77 


THE  FIRE-WATER.  219 

for  skins,  and,  by  order  of  Pontiac,  brought 
into  his  presence.  The  noble  chief  stood  in 
state,  gaudily  dressed,  and  with  a  lofty  mein, 
in  front  of  his  highly  decorated  wigwam.  A 
guard  of  warriors  were  upon  each  side  of  him, 
and  subordinate  chiefs  waited  the  command 
of  the  mighty  forest  king.  The  traders  were 
bold  men,  but  they  trembled  when  led  into 
his  presence.  They  knew  his  power,  the 
ferocity  of  the  men  whom  he  ruled,  and  the 
criminal  nature  of  the  business  in  which  they 
were  engaged. 

Pontiac  spoke  the  English  tongue  suffi- 
ciently well  to  make  himself  understood,  and 
he  asked  the  traders  if  they  were  not  aware 
that  he  had  forbidden  his  people  to  have  any 
intercourse  with  the  whites,  and  warned  the 
latter  to  leave  his  territory.  He  then  alluded 
to  the  many  services  he  had  done  the  whites, 
and  the  many  acts  of  hospitality  his  people 
had  performed.  "  And  how  have  you  repaid 
them?"  continued  he.  "They  gave  you 
shelter  and  venison,  and  you  gave  them  poi- 
son— fire-water,  to  burn  away  their  strength, 


220  STOKIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

and  blind  their  eyes,  so  that  you  could  cheat 
them  out  of  their  skins  and  furs,  and  perhaps 
their  land." 

The  white  traders  attempted  to  excuse 
themselves,  by  saying  that  they  had  only 
given  the  Indians  the  liquor  at  their  own 
earnest  entreaty.  But  Pontiac  indignantly 
commanded  their  silence.  ''Tou  knew  what 
the  fire-water  could  do,  what  it  has  done,  and 
what  it  will  do ;  and  yet  you  gave  it  to  them.'^ 
The  chief  raised  himself  to  his  full  height. 
He  was  a  tall  and  noble-looking  man.  His 
brow  was  high  and  broad,  his  eye  black,  keen, 
and  lively,  and  his  nose  aquiline  and  promi- 
nent. The  compressed  mouth  expressed  the 
firmness  of  his  will.  "For  your  fault,"  said 
he,  "  you  have  deserved  a  severe  punishment, 
and  were  you  at  the  mercy  of  many  of  my 
people,  death  would  quickly  be  your  lot.  I 
spare  your  lives  now,  and  my  warriors  shall 
conduct  you  safely  out  of  my  country.  But 
if  you  again  are  found  upon  this  land,  expect 
to  burn  at  the  stake.  Go !  Pontiac  has  said." 

The  white  men  concealed  the  joy  which  they 


THE  FIRE-WATER.  221 

felt  at  their  escape  from  death.  They  had 
expected  nothing  less.  Pontiac  directed  some 
of  his  warriors  to  accompany  the  traders  and 
then  retired  to  his  wigwam.  The  traders, 
once  safely  out  of  his  country  were  very  care- 
ful not  to  revisit  it  while  he  lived.  A  war 
broke  out  soon  after  this  event,  in  which  Pon- 
tiac displayed  the  skill  and  courage  of  a  great 
commander.  He  was  victorious  on  many  oc- 
casions, but  was  at  last  forced  to  conclude  a 
peace,  by  the  superior  numbers  and  discipline 
of  the  whites.  His  exertions  could  not  pre- 
vent his  people  from  using  the  ''fire-water'' 
occasionally ;  and  consequently,  he  could  not 
prevent  their  becoming  weakened,  and  so 
blinded  to  their  own  interest  as  to  sell  the 
land  of  their  forefathers,  and  aid  the  encroach- 
ments of  the  whites.  The  people  whom  he 
governed,  have  either  entirely  melted  away 
before  the  influence  of  war  and  the  use  of 
ardent  spirits,  or  greatly  reduced  in  numbers, 
have  removed  far  beyond  the  Mississippi. 

19* 


FARMER'S  BROTHER. 


NECDOTES  of  men  who  have  been 
distinguished  for  their  bravery, 
whether  friend  or  foe,  civilized 
or  savage,  seldom  fail  to  excite 
an  interest. 

During  the  second  war  with  England,  the 
Seneca  nation  of  Indians,  who  resided  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Buffalo,  were  employed  by 
(222) 


farmer's  brother.  223 

the  American  government,  and  attached  them- 
selves to  the  army,  then  about  to  enter  Ca- 
nada, under  the  command  of  General  Brown. 
The  principal  chief  of  this  tribe  was  "Far- 
mer's Brother" — a  stout,  athletic  warrior. 
The  frosts  of  eighty  winters  had  passed  over 
his  head ;  and  yet  he  retained  his  faculties  in 
an  eminent  degree.  He  possessed  all  the 
ardour  of  his  young  associates,  and  was  un- 
commonly animated  at  the  prospect  which  a 
frest  harvest  of  laurels  presented  to  his  mind. 
This  celebrated  chief,  in  the  war  between 
England  and  France,  was  engaged  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  latter.  He  once  pointed  out,  to 
the  writer  of  this  account,  the  spot  where, 
w^ith  a  party  of  Indians,  he  lay  in  ambush — 
patiently  waiting  the  approach  of  a  guard 
that  accompanied  the  English  teams,  employed 
between  the  Falls  of  Niagara  and  the  British 
garrison ;  the  fort  had  lately  surrendered  to 
Sir  William  Johnson.  The  place  selected  for 
that  purpose  is  now  known  by  the  name  of 
the  "  Devil's  Hole,"  and  is  three  and  a  half 
miles  below  the  famous  cataract,  upon  the 


224  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

United  States  side.  The  mind  can  scarcely 
conceive  a  more  dismal  looking  den.  A  large 
ravine,  occasioned  by  the  falling  in  of  the  per- 
pendicular bank,  made  dark  by  the  spreading 
branches  of  the  birch  and  cedar,  which  had 
taken  root  below,  and  the  low  murmurings 
of  the  rapids  in  the  chasm,  added  to  the  so- 
lemn thunder  of  the  cataract  itself,  conspire 
to  render  the  scene  truly  awful.  The  English 
party  were  not  aware  of  the  dreadful  fate 
which  awaited  them.  Unconscious  of  danger, 
the  drivers  were  gaily  whistling  to  their  dull 
ox-teams.  On  their  arrival  at  this  spot,  Far- 
mer's Brother  and  his  band  rushed  from  the 
thicket  that  had  concealed  them,  and  com- 
menced a  horrid  butchery.  So  unexpected 
was  the  attack,  and  so  completely  were 
the  English  deprived  of  all  presence  of 
mind,  but  a  feeble  resistance  was  made.  The 
guard,  the  teamsters,  the  oxen,  and  the  wagons, 
were  precipitated  into  the  gulf.  But  two  of 
them  escaped ;  a  Mr.  Steadman,  who  lived  at 
Schlosser,  above  the  falls,  being  mounted  on 
a  fleet  horse,  made  good  his  retreat ;  and  one 


farmer's  brother.  225 

of  the  soldiers,  who  was  caught  on  the  pro- 
jecting root  of  a  cedar,  which  sustained  him 
until — assured  by  the  distant  yells  of  the 
savages — they  had  left  the  grounds.  He  then 
clambered  up,  and  proceeded  to  Fort  Magara, 
with  the  intelligence  of  this  disaster.  A  small 
rivulet,  which  pours  itself  down  this  precipice, 
was  literally  colored  with  the  blood  of  the 
vanquished — and  has  ever  since  borne  the 
name  of  "  The  Bloody  Eun." 

In  the  war  of  the  Kevolution,  Farmer's 
Brother  evinced  his  hostility  to  the  Americans 
upon  every  occasion  that  occurred ;  and  with 
the  same  zeal,  he  engaged  in  the  late  war 
against  his  former  friends — the  British. 

Another  anecdote  of  this  chief  will  show, 
in  more  glaring  colors,  the  real  savage.  A 
short  time  before  the  United  States  army 
crossed  the  Niagara,  Farmer's  Brother  chanced 
to  observe  an  Indian,  who  had  mingled  with 
the  Senecas,  and  whom  he  instantly  recog- 
nised, as  belonging  to  the  Mohawks — a  tribe 
living  in  Canada,  and  then  employed  in  the 
enemy's  service.     He  went  up  to  him,  and 


226  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

addressed  him  in  the  Indian  tongue: — "I 
know  you  well — you  belong  to  the  Mohawks — • 
you  are  a  spy — here  is  my  rifle — my  toma- 
hawk— my  scalping  knife — I  give  you  your 
choice,  which  of  them  shall  I  use  ? — ^but  I  am 
in  haste!"  The  young  warrior,  finding  re- 
sistance vain,  chose  to  be  despatched  with 
the  rifle.  He  was  ordered  to  lie  upon  the 
grass;  while,  with  the  left  foot  upon  the 
breast  of  his  victim,  the  chief  lodged  the  con- 
tents of  the  rifle  into  his  head. 

With  so  much  of  the  savage,  Farmer's 
Brother  possessed  some  estimable  traits  of 
character.  He  was  as  firm  a  friend,  where 
he  promised  fidelity,  as  a  bitter  enemy  to  those 
against  whom  he  contended ;  and  would  rather 
lose  the  last  drop  of  his  blood,  than  betray 
the  cause  he  had  espoused.  He  was  fond  of 
recounting  his  exploits,  and,  savage-like, 
dwelt  with  much  satisfaction  upon  the  num- 
ber of  scalps  he  had  taken  in  his  skirmishes 
with  the  whites. 

In  company  with  several  other  chiefs,  he 
paid  a  visit  to  General  Washington,  who  pre- 


farmer's  brother. 


227 


sented  him  with  a  silver  medal.  This  he 
constantly  wore,  suspended  from  his  neck ; 
and,  so  precious  was  the  gift  in  his  eyes,  that 
he  often  declared,  he  would  lose  it  only  with 
his  life.  Soon  after  the  battles  of  Chippewa 
and  Bridgewater,  this  veteran  paid  the  debt 
of  nature,  at  the  Seneca  village ;  and,  out  of 
respect  to  his  bravery,  he  was  interred  with 
military  honors  from  the  fifth  regiment  of 
United  States  infantry. 


THE  PROPHET  OF  THE  ALLEGHANY. 

I       N  the  year  of  1798,  one  of  the 
^    missionaries  to  the  Indians  of 
the  north-^vest  was  on  his  way 
from  the  Tuscarora  settlement 
to  the  Senecas.     Journeying  in 
pious   meditation  through   the 
forest,  a  majestic  Indian  darted 
from  its   recess,    and    arrested 
his  progress.  His  hair  was  somewhat  changed 
with  age,  and  his  face  marked  with  the  deep 
(228) 


THE  PROPHET  OF  THE  ALLEGHANY.     229 

furrows  of  time ;  but  his  eye  expressed  all  tlie 
fiery  vivacity  of  youthful  passion,  and  his  step 
was  that  of  a  warrior  in  the  vigor  of  manhood. 

"  White  man  of  the  ocean,*  whither  wan- 
derestthou?"  said  the  Indian. 

"I  am  travelling,"  replied  the  meek  dis- 
ciple of  peace,  "towards  the  dwellings  of  thy 
brethren,  to  teach  them  the  knowledge  of  the 
only  true  God,  and  to  lead  them  to  peace  and 
happiness." 

"  To  peace  and  happiness !"  exclaimed  the 
tall  chief,  while  his  eye  flashed  fire — "  Behold 
the  blessings  that  follow  the  footsteps  of  the 
white  man !  "Wherever  he  comes,  the  nations 
of  the  woodlands  fade  from  the  eye,  like  the 
mists  of  the  morning.  Once  over  the  wide 
forest  of  the  surrounding  world  our  people 
roamed  in  peace  and  freedom ;  nor  ever 
dreamed  of  greater  happiness  than  to  hunt 

.  *  The  Indians  at  first  imagined  that  the  white  men  originally 
sprang  from  the  sea,  and  that  they  invaded  their  country  because 
they  had  none  of  their  own.  They  sometimes  called  them  in  their 
songs,  '•  The  froth,  or  white  foam  of  the  ocean  ;"  and  this  name 
is  often  applied  contemptuously  by  the  savages  of  the  north-west. 

20 


230  STOEiES  or  the  Indians. 

the  beaver,  the  bear,  and  the  wild  deer.  From 
the  furthest  extremity  of  the  great  deep  came 
the  white  man,  armed  with  thunder  and 
lightning,  and  weapons  still  more  pernicious. 
In  war  he  hunted  us  like  wild  beasts ;  in 
peace,  he  destroyed  us  by  deadly  liquors,  or 
yet  more  deadly  frauds.  Yet  a  few  moons 
had  passed  away,  and  whole  nations  of  in- 
vincible warriors,  and  of  hunters,  that  fear- 
less swept  the  forest  and  the  mountain,  perish, 
vainly  opposing  their  triumphant  invaders, 
or  quietly  dwindled  into  slaves  and  drunk- 
ards— and  their  names  withered  from  the 
earth.  Eetire,  dangerous  man!  Leave  us 
all  we  yet  have  left — our  savage  virtues,  and 
our  gods ;  and  do  not,  in  the  vain  attempt  to 
cultivate  a  rude  and  barren  soil,  pluck  up  the 
few  thrifty  plants  of  native  growth  that  have 
survived  the  fostering  cares  of  the  people,  and 
weathered  the  stormy  career  of  their  perni- 
cious friendship."  The  tall  chief  darted  into 
the  wood,  and  the  good  missionary  pursued 
his  way  with  pious  resolution. 

He  preached  the  only  true  divinity,  and 


THE  PROPHET  OP  THE  ALLEGHANY.     231 

plactd  before    the   eyes   of    the   wondering 
savages  the  beauty  of  holiness,  &c. 

t^  JjC  r^C  <f»  4       *t^ 

The  awe-struck  Indians,  roused  by  these 
accumulated  motives — many  of  them  adopted 
the  precepts  of  the  missionary,  as  far  as  they 
could  comprehend  them ;  and,  in  the  course 
of  eighteen  months,  their  devotion  became 
rational,  regular,  and  apparently  permanent. 

All  at  once,  however,  the  little  church,  in 
which  the  good  man  was  wont  to  pen  his  fold, 
became  deserted.  No  votary  came,  as  usual, 
to  listen,  with  decent  reverence,  to  the  pure 
doctrines  which  they  were  accustomed  to 
hear ;  and  only  a  few  solitary  idlers  were  seen, 
of  a  Sunday  morning,  lounging  about,  and 
casting  a  wistful  yet  fearful  look  at  their  little 
peaceful  and  now  silent  mansion. 

The  missionary  sought  them  out,  inquired 
into  the  cause  of  this  mysterious  desertion, 
and  told  them  of  the  bitterness  of  hereafter 
to  those  who,  having  once  known,  abandoned 
the  religion  of  the  only  true  God.  The  poor 
Indians  shook  their  heads,  and  informed  him 


232  '     STORIES  OF  TliE  INDIANS. 

that  the  Great  Spirit  was  angry  at  their 
apostacy,  and  had  sent  a  Prophet  from  the 
summit  of  the  Alleghany  mountains,  to  warn 
them  against  the  admission  of  new  doctrines ; 
that  there  was  to  be  a  great  meeting  of  the 
the  old  men  soon,  and  the  Prophet  would 
there  deliver  to  the  people  the  message  with 
which  he  was  entrusted.  The  zealous  mis- 
sionary determined  to  be  present,  and  to 
confront  the  impostor,  who  was  known  by  the 
appellation  of  the  Prophet  of  the  Alleghany. 
He  obtained  permission  to  appear  at  the 
couBcil,  and  to  reply  to  the  Prophet.  The 
12th  of  June,  1802,  was  fixed  for  determining 
whether  the  belief  of  their  forefathers  or  that 
of  the  white  men  was  the  true  religion. 

The  council-house  not  being  large  enough 
to  contain  so  great  an  assemblage  of  people, 
they  met  in  a  valley  west  of  Seneca  Lake. 
This  valley  was  then  embowered  under  lofty 
trees.  On  almost  every  side  it  is  surrounded 
T^ith  high  rugged  hills,  and  through  it  mean- 
ders a  small  river. 

It  was  a  scene  to  call  forth  every  energy 


THE  PROPHET  OF  THE  ALLEGHANY.     233 

of  the  human  heart.  On  a  smooth  level,  near 
the  bank  of  a  slow  stream,  under  the  shade 
of  a  large  elm,  sat  the  chief  men  of  the  tribes. 
Around  the  circle  which  they  formed,  was 
gathered  a  crowd  of  wondering  savages,  with 
eager  looks,  seeming  to  demand  the  true  God 
at  the  hands  of  their  wise  men.  In  the  middle 
of  the  circle  sat  the  aged  and  travel-worn 
missionary.  A  few  gray  hairs  wandered  over 
his  brow;  his  hands  were  crossed  on  his 
bosom;  and,  as  he  cast  his  hope-beaming 
eye  to  heaven,  he  seemed  to  be  calling  with 
pious  fervor  upon  the  God  of  Truth,  to  vin- 
dicate his  own  eternal  word  by  the  mouth  of 
his  servant. 

For  more  than  half  an  hour  there  was  si- 
lence in  the  valley,  save  the  whispering  of 
the  trees  in  the  south  wind,  and  the  indistinct 
murmuring  of  the  river.  Then  all  at  once,  a 
sound  of  astonishment  ran  through  the  crowd, 
and  the  Prophet  of  tBe  Alleghany  was  seen 
descending  one  of  the  high  hills.  With  furious 
and  frenzied  step  he  entered  the  circle,  and, 
waving  his  hands  in  token  of  silence,  the  mis- 

20* 


234  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

sionary  saw,  with  wonder,  the  same  tall  chief, 
who,  four  years  before,  had  crossed  him  in  the 
Tuscarora  forest.  The  same  panther-skin 
hung  over  his  shoulder ;  the  same  tomahawk 
quivered  in  his  hand ;  and  the  same  fiery  and 
malignant  spirit  burned  in  his  eye.  He  ad- 
dressed the  awe-struck  Indians,  and  the 
valley  rung  with  his  iron-voice. 

"Eed'Men  of  the  Woods !  Hear  what  the 
Great  Spirit  says  of  his  children  who  have 
forsaken  him ! 

'^  Through  the  wide  regions  that  were  once 
the  inheritance  of  my  people— and  for  ages 
they  roved  as  free  as  the  wild  winds — resounds 
the  axe  of  the  white  man.  The  paths  of  your 
forefathers  are  polluted  by  the  their  steps, 
and  your  hunting-grounds  are  every  day 
wrested  from  you  by  their  arts.  Once  on  the 
shores  of  the  mighty  ocean,  your  fathers  were 
wont  to  enjoy  all  the  luxuriant  delights  of 
the  deep.  Now,  you'are  exiles  in  swamps, 
or  on  barren  hills ;  and  these  wretched  pos- 
sessions you  enjoy  by  the  precarious  tenure 
of  the  white  man's  will.     The  shrill  cry  of 


THE  PEOPHET  OF  THE  ALLEGHANY.     235 

revelry  or  war,  no  more  is  heard  on  the  ma- 
jestic shores  of  the  Hudson,  or  the  sweet 
banks  of  the  silver  Mohawk.  There  where 
the  Indian  lived  and  died,  free  as  the  air  he 
breathed,  and  chased  the  panther  and  the 
deer  from  morning  until  evening — even  there 
the  Christian  slave  cultivates  the  soil  in  un- 
distui'bed  possession ;  and  as  he  whistles  be- 
hind the  plough,  turns  up  the  sacred  remains 
of  your  buried  ancestors.  Have  you  not 
heard  at  evening,  and  sometimes  in  the  dead 
of  night,  those  mournful  and  melodious  sounds 
that  steal  through  the  deep  valleys,  or  along 
the  mountain  sides,"  like  the  song  of  echo  ? 
These  are  the  wailings  of  those  spirits  whose 
bones  have  been  turned  up  by  the  sacrilegious 
labors  of  the  white  men,  and  left  to  the  mercy 
of  the  rain  and  the  tempest.  They  call  upon 
you  to  avenge  them — they  adjure  you,  by 
motives  that  rouse  the  hearts  of  the  brave,  to 
wake  from  your  long  sleep,  and,  by  returning 
to  these  invaders  of  the  grave  the  long  ar- 
rears of  vengeance,  restore  again  the  tired 


236  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

and  wandering  spirits  to  their  blissful  paradise 
far  beyond  the  blue  hills.* 

"These  are  the  blessings  you  owe  to  the 
Christians.  They  have  driven  your  fathers 
from  their  ancient  inheritance — they  have  de- 
stroyed them  with  the  sword  and  poisonous 
liquors — they  have  dug  up  their  bones,  and 
left  them  to  blanch  in  the  wind,  and  now 
they  aim  at  completing  your  wrongs,  and  in- 
suring your  destruction,  by  cheating  you  into 
the  belief  of  that  divinity,  whose  very  precepts 
they  plead  in  justification  of  all  the  miseries 
they  have  heaped  upon  your  race. 

"Hear  me,  0  deluded  people,  for  the  last 
time ! — If  you  persist  in  deserting  my  altars — 
if  still  you  are  determined  to  listen  with  fatal 
credulity  to  the  strange  pernicious  doctrines 
of  these  Christian  usurpers — if  you  are  unal- 
terably devoted  to  your  new  gods  and  new 
customs — if  you  will  be  the  friend  of  the 
white  man,  and  the  follower  of  his  God — my 

*The  answering  voices  heard  from  the  caves  and  hollo  vvs, 
whicti  the  Latins  call  echo,  the  Indians  suppose  to  be  the  wailings 
of  sonls  wandering  through  these  places. 


THE  PROPHET  OF  THE  ALLEGHANY.     237 

wrath  shall  follow.  I  will  dart  my  arrows  of 
forked  lightning  among  your  towns,  and  send 
the  warring  tempests  of  winter  to  devour  you. 
Te  shall  become  bloated  with  intemperance ; 
your  numbers  shall  dwindle  away,  until  but  a 
few  wretched  slaves  survive  ;  and  these  shall 
be  driven  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  wild — 
there  to  associate  with  the  dastard  beasts  of 
the  forest,  who  once  fled  before  the  mighty 
hunters  of  your  tribe.  The  spirits  of  your 
fathers  .shall  curse  you,  from  the  shores  of 
that  happy  island  in  the  great  lake,  where 
they  enjoy  an  everlasting  season  of  hunting, 
and  chase  the  wild  deer  with  dogs  swifter 
than  the  wind.  Lastly,  I  swear  by  the  light- 
ning, the  thunder,  and  the  tempest,  that,  in 
the  space  of  sixty  moons,  of  all  the  Senecas, 
not  one  of  yourselves  shall  remain  on  the  face 
of  the  earth." 

The  Prophet  ended  his  message — which 
was  delivered  with  the  wild  eloquence  of  real 
or  fancied  inspiration,  and,  all  at  once,  the 
crowd  seemed  to  be  agitated  with  a  savage 
sentiment  of  indignation  against  the   good 


238  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

missionary.  One  of  the  fiercest  broke  through 
the  circle  of  old  men  to  despatch  him,  but 
was  restrained  by  their  authority. 

When  this  sudden  feeling  had  somewhat 
subsided,  the  mild  apostle  obtained  permis- 
sion to  speak,  in  behalf  of  Him  who  had  sent 
him.  J^ever  have  I  seen  a  more  touching, 
pathetic  figure,  than  this  good  man.  He 
seemed  past  sixty ;  his  figure  tall  and  bend- 
ing, his  face  mild,  pale,  and  highly  intellec- 
tual, and  over  his  forehead,  which  yet  dis- 
played its  blue  veins,  were  scattered  at  soli- 
tary distances,  a  few  gray  hairs.  Though  his 
voice  was  clear,  and  his  action  vigorous,  yet 
there  was  that  in  his  looks,  which  seemed  to 
say  his  pilgrimage  was  soon  to  close  for  ever. 

With  pious  fervor  he  discribed  to  his  audi- 
ence the  glory,  power,  and  beneficence  of  the 
Creator  of  the  whole  universe.  He  told  them 
of  the  pure  delights  of  the  Christian  heaven, 
and  of  the  never-ending  tortures  of  those  who 
rejected  the  precepts  of  the  Gospel. 

And,  when  he  had  concluded  this  part  of 
the  subject,  he  proceeded  to  place  before  his 


THE  PROPHET  OF  THE  ALLEGHANY.     239 

now  attentive  auditors,  the  advantages  of 
civilization,  learning,  science,  and  a  regular 
system  of  laws  and  morality.  He  contrasted 
the  wild  Indian,  roaming  the  desert  in  savage 
independence,  now  revelling  in  the  blood  of 
enemies,  and  in  his  turn,  the  victim  of  their 
insatiable  vengeance,  with  the  peaceful  citi- 
zen, enjoying  all  the  comforts  of  cultivated 
life  in  this  happy  land;  and  only  bounded  in 
his  indulgences  by  those  salutary  restraints, 
which  contribute  as  well  to  his  own  happiness 
as  to  that  of  society  at  large.  He  described 
the  husbandman,  enjoying,  in  the  bosom  of 
his  family,  a  peaceful  independence,  undis- 
turbed by  apprehensions  of  midnight  surprise, 
plunder,  and  assassination ;  and  he  finished 
by  a  solemn  appeal  to  heaven,  that  his  sole 
motive  for  coming  among  them  was  the  love 
ot  his  Creator  and  of  his  creatures. 

As  tne  benevolent  missionary  closed  his 
appeal,  Ked  Jaci?:et,  a  Seneca  chief  of  great 
authority,  and  the  most  eloquent  of  all  his 
nation,  rose  and  enforced  the  exhortations  of 
the   venerable   preacher.     He   repeated   his 


240  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

leading  arguments,  and — with  an  eloquence 
truly  astonishing  in  one  like  him — pleaded 
the  cause  of  religion  and  humanity.  The  an- 
cient council  then  deliberated  for  the  space 
of  nearly  two  hours ;  after  which  the  oldest 
man  arose,  and  solemnly  pronounced  the  re- 
sult of  their  conference — "  That  the  Christian 
God  was  more  wise,  more  just,  more  benefi- 
cent and  powerful,  than  the  Great  Spirit,  and 
that  the  missionary  who  had  delivered  his 
precepts,  ought  to  be  cherished  as  their  best 
benefactor — their  guide  to  future  happiness.'' 
When  this  decision  was  pronounced  by  the 
venerable  old  man.  and  acquiesced  in  by  the 
people,  the  rage  of  the  Prophet  of  the  Alle- 
ghany became  terrible.  He  started  from  the 
ground,  seized  his  tomahawk,  and  denounc- 
ing the  speedy  vengeance  of  the  Great  Spirit 
uj)on  their  whole  recreant  race,  darted  from 
the  circle  with  wild  impetuosity,  and  disap- 
peared in  the  shadows  of  the  forest. 


PETER  OTSAQUETTE. 

ILLUSTRATIVE  OF  THE  FORCE  OF  EARLY  HABIT. 

ETER  OTSAQUETTE 

was  the  son  of  a 
man  of  conside- 
ration among  the 
Oneida  Indians 
of  New  York.  At 
the  close  of  the 
%  Revolution,  he 
was  noticed  by 
the  Marquis  de  Lafayette,  who,  to  a  noble 

21  (241) 


242  STOKIES  OP  THE  INDIANS. 

zeal  for  liberty,  united  the  most  philanthropic 
feelings.  Viewing,  therefore,  this  young 
savage  with  peculiar  interest,  and  anticipat- 
ing the  happy  results  to  be  derived  from  his 
moral  regeneration,  he  took  him,  though 
scarcely  twelve  years  old,  to  France.  Peter 
arrived  at  that  period  when  Louis  XYI.  and 
Maria  Antoinette  were  in  the  zenith  of  their 
glory.  There  he  was  taught  the  accomplish- 
ments of  a  gentleman ; — music,  drawing,  and 
fencing,  were  made  familiar  to  him,  and  he 
danced  with  a  grace  that  a  Yestris  could  not 
but  admire.  At  about  eighteen,  his  separa- 
tion from  a  country  in  which  he  had  spent 
his  time  so  agreeably  and  profitably,  became 
necessary.  Laden  with  favors  from  the  Mar- 
quis, and  the  miniatures  of  those  friends  he 
had  left  behind,  Peter  departed  for  America — 
inflated,  perhaps,  with  the  idea,  that  the  deep 
ignorance  of  his  nation,  with  that  of  the  In- 
dians of  the  whole  continent,  might  be  dis- 
pelled by  his  efforts,  and  he  become  the  proud 
instrument  of  the  civilization  of  thousands. 
Prosecuting  his  route  to  the  land  of  his 


PETER  OTSAQUETTE.  243 

parents,  he  came  to  the  city  of  Albany ;  not 
the  uncivilized  savage,  not  with  any  of  those 
marks  which  bespoke  a  birth  in  the  forest, 
or  spent  in  toiling  the  wilds  of  a  desert,  but 
possessing  a  fine  commanding  figure,  an  ex- 
pressive countenance,  and  intelligent  eye, 
with  a  face  scarcely  indicative  of  the  race 
from  which  he  was  descended.  He  presented, 
at  this  period,  an  interesting  spectacle;  a 
child  of  the  wilderness  was  beheld  about  to 
proceed  to  the  home  of  his  forefathers,  having 
received  the  brilliant  advantages  of  a  culti- 
vated mind,  and  on  his  way  to  impart  to  the 
nation  that  owned  him,  the  benefits  which 
civilization  had  given  him.  It  was  an  oppor- 
tunity for  the  philosopher  to  contemplate, 
and  to  reflect  on  the  future  good  this  young 
Indian  might  be  the  means  of  producing. 

Shortly  after  his  arrival  in  Albany — where 
he  visited  the  first  families — he  took  advan- 
tage of  Governor  Clinton's  journey  to  Fort 
Stanwix,  where  a  treaty  was  to  be  held  with 
the  Indians,  to  return  to  his  tribe.  On  the 
route,  Otsaquette  amused  the  company,  among 


244  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

whom  were  the  French  Minister,  Count  de 
Moustiers,  and  several  gentlemen  of  respecta- 
bility, by  his  powers  on  various  instruments 
of  music.  At  Fort  Stanwix,  he  found  him- 
self again  with  the  companions  of  his  early 
days,  who  saw  and  recognised  him.  His 
friends  and  relations  had  not  forgotten  him, 
and  he  was  welcomed  to  his  home  and  to  his 
blanket. 

But  that  which  occurred  soon  after  his  re- 
ception, led  him  to  a  too  fearful  anticipation 
of  an  unsuccessful  project;  for  the  Oneidas, 
as  if  they  could  not  acknowledge  Otsaquette, 
attired  in  the  dress  with  which  he  appeared 
before  them,  a  mark  which  did  not  disclose 
his  nation,  and,  thinking  that  he  had  assumed 
it,  as  if  ashamed  of  his  own  native  costume, 
the  garb  of  his  ancestors,  they  tore  it  from 
him  with  a  savage  avidity,  and  a  fiend-like 
ferociousness,  daubed  on  the  paint  to  which 
he  had  been  so  long  unused,  and  clothed  him 
'  with  the  uncouth  habiliments  held  sacred  by 
his  tribe.  Their  fiery  ferocity,  in  the  per- 
formance of  the  act,  showed  but  too  well  the 


PETER  OTSAQUETTE.  245 

bold  stand  they  were  about  to  take  against 
the  innovations  they  supposed  Otsaquette 
was  to  be  the  agent  for  affecting  against  their 
immemorial  manners  and  customs,  and  which 
from  the  venerable  antiquity  of  their  struc- 
ture, it  would  be  nothing  short  of  sacrilege 
to  destroy. 

Thus  the  reformed  savage  was  taken  back 
again  to  his  native  barbarity,  and,  as  if  to 
cap  the  climax  of  degradation  to  a  mind  just 
susceptible  of  its  own  powers,  was  married  to 
a  squaw. 

From  that  day  Otsego  was  no  longer  the 
accomplished  Indian,  from  whom  every  wish 
of  philanthrophy  was  expected  to  be  realized. 
He  was  no  longer  the  instrument  by  whose 
power  the  emancipation  of  his  countrymen 
from  the  thraldom  of  ignorance  and  supersti- 
tion, was  to  be  effected.  From  that  day  he 
was  an  inmate  of  the  forest ;  was  once  more 
buried  in  his  original  obscurity,  and  his  na- 
tion only  viewed  him  as  an  equal.  Even  a 
liberal  grant  from  the  state,  failed  of  securing 
to  him   that  superior   consideration   among 

21* 


246  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

them  which  his  civilization  had  procured  for 
him  with  the  rest  of  mankind.  The  com- 
manding pre-eminence  acquired  from  instruc- 
tion, from  which  it  was  expected  ambition 
would  have  sprung  up,  and  acted  as  a  double 
stimulant,  from  either  the  natural  inferiority 
of  the  savage  mind,  or  the  predetermination 
of  his  countrymen,  became  of  no  effect,  and, 
in  a  little  time,  was  wholly  annihilated.  Ot- 
saquette  was  lost.  His  moral  perdition  began 
from  the  hour  he  left  Fort  Stanwix.  Three 
short  months  had  hardly  transpired,  when 
intemperance  had  marked  him  as  her  own, 
and  soon  hurried  him  to  the  grave.  And,  as 
if  the  very  transition  had  deadened  the  finer 
feelings  of  his  nature,  the  picture  given  him 
by  the  Marquis — the  very  portrait  of  his  af- 
fectionate friend  and  benefactor  himself — he 
parted  with. 

Extraordinary  and  unnatural  as  the  con- 
duct of  this  uneducated  savage  may  appear, 
the  anecdote  is  not  of  a  kind  altogether 
unique',  which  proves,  that  little  or  nothing 
is  to  be  expected  from  conferring  a  literary 


PETER  OTSAQUETTE.  247 

education  upon  the  rude  children  of  the 
forest :  An  Indian  named  George  White-Eyes, 
was  taken,  while  a  boy,  to  the  college  at 
Princeton,  where  he  received  a  classical  edu- 
cation. On  returning  to  his  nation,  he  made 
some  little  stay  in  Philadelphia,  where  he 
wjis  introduced  to  some  genteel  families.  He 
was  amiable  in  his  manners,  and  of  modest 
demeanor,  without  exhibiting  any  trait  of  the 
savage  whatever ;  but,  no  sooner  had  he-  re- 
joined his  friends  and  former  companions,  in 
the  land  of  his  nativity,  than  he  dropped  the 
garb  and  manner  of  civilization,  and  resumed 
those  of  the  savage,  and  drinking  deep  of  the 
intoxicating  cup,  ,soon  put  a  period  to  his 
existence. 

Many  other  instances  might  be  adduced  to 
show  how  ineffectual  have  been  the  attempts 
to  plant  civilization  on  savage  habits,  by 
means  of  literary  education — "  Can  the  leopard 
change  his  spots  ?" 


PERFIDY  PUNISHED. 

N  the  early  part  of  tLe 
revolutionary  war,  a 
sergeant  and  twelve 
armed  men,  undertook 
a  journey  through  the 
wilderness  of  New 
Hampshire.  Their  si- 
tuation was  remote 
from  any  settlements,  and  they  were  under 
(248) 


INDIAN  PERFIDY.  249 

the  necessity  of  encamping  over  night  in  the 
woods.  In  the  early  part  of  the  struggle  for 
independence,  the  Indians  were  numerous, 
and  did  not  stand  idle  spectators  to  a  con- 
flict carried  on  with  so  much  zeal  and  ardour 
by  the  whites.  Some  tribes  were  friendly  to 
oijr  cause,  'while  many  upon  our  borders  took 
part  with  the  enemy,  and  were  very  trouble- 
some in  their  savage  manner  of  warfare, — as 
was  often  learned  from  the  woful  experience 
of  their  midnight  depredations.  The  leader 
of  the  above  mentioned  party  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  different  tribes,  and — from 
much  intercourse  with  them,  previous  to  the 
war — was  not  ignorant  of  the  idiom,  physiog- 
nomy, and  dress,  of  each;  and,  at  the  com- 
mencement of  hostilities,  was  informed  for 
which  party  they  had  raised  the  hatchet. 

E'othing  material  happened,  the  first  day 
of  their  excursion ;  but  early  in  the  afternoon 
of  the  second,  they  frbm  an  eminence,  dis- 
covered a  body  of  armed  Indians  advancing 
towards  them,  whose  number  rather  exceeded 
their  own.     As  soon  as  the  whites  were  per- 


250  STORIES  OF. THE  INDIANS. 

ceived  by  their  red  brethren,  the  latter  made 
signals,  and  the  two  parties  approached  each 
other  in  an  amicable  manner.  The  Indians 
appeared  to  be  much  gratified  with  meeting 
the  sergeant  and  his  men,  whom,  they  ob- 
served, they  considered  as  their  protectors ; 
said  they  belonged  to  a  tribe  which  had 
raised  the  hatchet  with  zeal,  in  the  cause  of 
liberty,  and  were  determined  to  do  all  in  their 
power  to  injure  the  common  enemy.  They 
shook  hands  in  friendship,  and  it  was,  "  How 
d'ye  do,  pro  P^  that  being  their  pronunciation 
of  the  word  brother.  When  they  had  con- 
versed with  each  other  for  some  time,  and 
exchanged  mutual  good  wishes,  they  sepa- 
rated, and  each  party  travelled  in  different 
directions.  After  proceeding  a  mile  or  more, 
the  sergeant  halted  his  men,  and  addressed 
them  in  the  following  words : 

"My  brave  companions!  we  must  use  the 
utmost  caution,  or  thfs  night  may  be  our  last. 
Should  w^e  not  make  some  extraordinary  ex- 
ertion to  defend  ourselves,  to-morrow's  sun 
may  find  us  sleeping,  never  to  wake.     You 


PERFIDY  PUNISHED.  251 

are  surprised,  comrades,  at  my  words,  and 
your  anxiety  will  not  be  lessened,  when  I 
inform  you,  that  we  have  just  passed  our  in- 
veterate foe,  who,  under  the  mask  of  pretended 
friendship  you  have  witnessed,  would  lull  us 
into  fancied  security,  and,  by  such  means,  in 
the  unguarded  inoments  of  our  midnight 
slumber,  without  resistance,  seal  out  fate!" 

The  men  were  astonished  at  this  harangue, 
for  they  supposed  the  party  they  had  encoun- 
tered were  friends.  They  resolved  for  their  own 
preservation  to  adopt  the  following  scheme : 
Their  night's  encampment  was  near  a  stream. 
They  felled  a  large  tree,  before  which  a  bril- 
liant fire  was  made,  and  each  individual  cut 
a  log  of  wood  the  size  of  his  body,  rolled  it  into 
his  blanket,  and  placed  it  before  the  fire,  that 
the  enemy  might  take  it  for. a  man.  The  fire 
was  kept  burning  until  near  midnight,  when 
it  was  expected  an  attack  would  be  made. 
Soon  a  tall  Indian  was  seen  through  the  glim- 
mering fire,  cautiously  moving  towards  them. 
His  actions  showed  that  he  was  suspicious  of 
a  guard  being  posted  to  give  an  alai-m ;  but 


252  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

finding  all  quiet,  lie  moved  forward,  and  was 
seen  to  move  his  finger  as  lie  numbered  each 
log,  or,  what  he  supposed  to  be  a  man  asleep. 
To  satisfy  himself  as  to  the  number,  he  re- 
counted them,  and  retired.  A  second  Indian 
went  through  the  same  movements. 

The  whole  party,  sixteen  in  number,  now 
cautiously  advanced,  and  eagerly  eyeing  their 
supposed  victims.  The  sergeant's  party  could 
scarcely  be  restrained  from  firing  upon  them ; 
but  the  plan  was  to  remain  silent  until  the 
guns  of  the  savages  were  discharged,  so  that 
their  own  might  be  more  efiectual. 

Their  suspense  was  short.  The  Indians  ap- 
proached, till  within  a  short  distance;  they 
then  halted,  took  deliberate  aim,  fired  upon 
the  logs,  and  rushed  forward  with  scalping 
knife,  to  take  the  scalps  of  the  dead.  As  soon 
as  they  were  collected  in  a  close  body,  more 
effectually  to  execute  their  horrid  intentions, 
the  party  of  the  sergeant,  with  unerring  aim, 
discharged  their  muskets  upon  the  savages ; 
not  one  of  whom  escaped  destruction. 


BUILDING  ENCAMPMENT  ON  RED  RIVER. 


ADYENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE, 


COMPRISING  AN  ACCOUNT   OF   THE   WARS   WITH    THE 
INDIANS  ON  THE  OHIO,  WRITTEN  BY  HIMSELF. 

FT  was  on  the  first  of 
1  May,  1769,  that  I  re- 
signed my  domestic  hap- 
piness, and  left  my  family 
and  peaceful  habitation 
on  the  Tadkin  river,  in 
North  "Carolina,  to  wan- 
der through  the  wilderness  of  America,  in 

(255) 


256  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

quest  of  the  country  of  Kentucky,  in  ccJmpany 
with  John  Finley,  John  Stuart,  Joseph  HoldeA, 
James  Monay,  and  William  Cool. 

On  the  7th  of  June,  after  travelling  in  a 
western  direction,  we  found  ourselves  on  Eed 
Eiver,  where  John  Finley,  had  formerly  been 
trading  with  the  Indians,  and  from  the  top 
of  an  eminence  saw  with  pleasure  the  beau- 
tiful level  of  Kentucky.  For  some  time  we 
had  experienced  the  most  uncomfortable  wea- 
ther. We  now  encamped,  made  a  shelter  to 
defend  us  from  the  inclement  season,  and  be- 
gan to  hunt  and  reconnoitre  the  country.  We 
found  abundance  of  beasts  in  this  vast  forest. 
The  buffaloes  were  more  numerous  than  cattle 
on  their  settlements,  browsing  on  the  leaves 
of  the  cane,  or  cropping  the  herbage  on  these 
extensive  plains.  We  saw  hundreds  in  a 
drove,  and  the  numbers  around  the  salt 
springs  were  amazing.  In  this  forest,  the 
habitation  of  beasts  of  every  American  kind, 
we  hunted  with  great  success  until  December. 

On  the  22d  of  December,  John  Stuart  and 
I  had  a  pleasing  ramble ;  but  fortune  changed 


H 

l-H 

O 

w 

W 

a 

o 


22'' 


ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  259 

the  day  at  the  close  of  it.  We  passed  through 
a  great  forest,  in  which  stood  myriads  of  trees, 
some  gay  with  blossoms,  others  rich  with 
fruits.  Nature  was  here  a  series  of  wonders, 
and  a  fund  of  delight.  Here  she  displayed 
her  ingenuity  and  industry  in  a  variety  of 
flowers  and  fruits,  beautifully  colored,  ele- 
gantly shaped,  and  charmingly  flavored ;  and 
we  were  favored  with  numberless  animals 
presenting  themselves  perpetually  to  our  view. 
In  the  decline  of  the  day,  near  Kentucky 
river,  as  we  ascended  the  brow  of  a  small 
hill,  a  number  of  Indians  rushed  out  of  a  cane 
brake  and  made  us  prisoners. 

The  Indians  plundered  us  and  kept  us  in 
confinement  seven  days.  During  this  time 
we  discovered  no  uneasiness  or  desire  to 
escape,  which  made  them  less  suspicious ; 
but  in  the  dead  of  night,  as  we  lay  by  a  large 
fire  in  a  thick  cane  brake,  when  sleep  had 
locked  up  their  senses,  my  situation  not  dis- 
posing me  to  rest,  I  gently  awoke  my  compa- 
nion. We  seized  this  favorable  opportunity 
and  departed ;  directing  our  course  towards 


260  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

the  old  camp,  but  we  found  it  plundered  and 
our  company  destroyed  or  dispersed. 

About  this  time  as  my  brother  with  an- 
other adventurer,  who  came  to  explore  the 
country  shortly  after  us,  were  wandering 
through  the  forest,  they  accidentally  found  our 
camp.  Notwithstanding  our  unfortunate  cir- 
cumstances, and  our  dangerous  situation,  sur- 
rounded by  hostile  savages,  our  meeting  for- 
tunately in  the  wilderness  gave  us  the  most 
sensible  satisfaction. 

Soon  after  this,  my  companion  in  captivity, 
John  Stuart,  was  killed  by  the  savages,  and 
the  man  who  came  with  my  brother,  while  on 
a  private  excursion,  was  soon  after  attacked 
and  killed  by  the  wolves.  We  were  now  in  a 
dangerous  and  helpless  situation,  exposed 
daily  to  perils  and  death,  among  savages  and 
wild  beasts,  not  a  white  man  in  the  country 
but  ourselves. 

Although  many  hundred  miles  from  our 
families,  in  the  howling  wilderness,  we  did 
not  continue   in   a  state   of  indolence,   but 


ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  261 


A  WOLF. 

hunted  every  day,  and  prepared  a  little  cot- 
tage to  defend  us  from  the  winter. 

On  the  1st  of  May,  1770,  my  brother  re- 
turned home  for  a  new  recruit  of  horses  and 
ammunition ;  leaving  me  alone,  without  salt, 
bread,  or  sugar,  or  even  a  horse  or  a  dog.  I 
passed  a  few  days  uncomfortably.  The  idea 
of  a  beloved  wife  and  family,  and  their  anx- 
iety on  my  account,  would  have  disposed  me 
to  melancholy  if  I  had  further  indulged  in 
the  thought. 

One  day  I  undertook  a  tour  through  the 
country,  when  the  diversity  and  beauties  of 


262  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

nature  I  met  with  in  this  charming  season, 
expelled  every  gloomy  thought.  Just  at  the 
close  of  the  day,  the  gentle  gales  ceased;  a 
profound  calm  ensued;  not  a  breath  shook 
the  tremulous  leaf.  I  had  gained  the  summit 
of  a  commanding  ridge,  and  looking  around 
with  astonishing  delight,  beheld  the  ample 
plains  and  beauteous  tracts  below.  On  one 
hand  I  surveyed  the  famous  Ohio  rolling  in 
silent  dignity,  and  marking  the.,  western 
boundary  of  Kentucky  with  inconceivable 
grandeur.  At  a  vast  distance  I  beheld  the 
mountains  lift  their  venerable  brows  and  pe- 
netrate the  clouds,  All  things  were  still.  1 
kindled  a  fire  near  a  fountain  of  sweet  water, 
and  feasted  on  the  line  of  a  buck  which  I  had 
killed  a  few  hours  before.  The  shades  of 
night  soon  overspread  the  hemisphere,  and 
the  earth  seemed  to  gasp  after  the  hovering 
moisture.  At  a  distance  I  frequently  heard 
the  hideous  yells  of  savages.  My  excursion 
had  fatigued  my  body  and  amused  my  mind. 
I  laid  me  down  to  sleep,  and  awoke  not  until 
the  sun  had  chased  away  the  night.     I  con- 


ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE. 


263 


A  WILD  BUCK. 

tinued  this  tour,  and  in  a  few  days  explored 
a  considerable  part  of  the  country,  each  day 
equally  pleasing  as  the  first.  After  which  I 
returned  to  my  old  camp,  which  had  not  been 
disturbed  in  my  absence.  I  did  not  confine 
my  lodging  to  it,  but  often  reposed  in  thick 
cane  brakes  to  avoid  the  savages,  who  I  be- 
lieve frequently  visited  my  camp,  but  fortu- 


264:  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

nately  for  me  in  my  absence.  ^N'o  populous 
city,  with  all  its  varieties  of  commerce  and 
stately  structures,  could  afford  such  pleasure 
to  my  mind,  as  the  beauties  of  nature  which 
I  found  in  this  country. 

Until  the  27th  of  July,  I  spent  my  time  in 
an  uninterrupted  scene  of  sylvan  pleasures, 
when  my  brother,  to  my  great  felicity,  met 
me,  according  to  appointment,  at  our  old 
camp.  Soon  after  we  left  the  place  and  pro- 
ceeded to  Cumberland  river,  reconnoitring 
that  part  of  the  country,  and  giving  names  to 
the  different  rivers. 

In  March,  1771,  I  returned  home  to  my 
family,  being  determined  to  bring  them  as 
soon  as  possible,  at  the  risk  of  my  life  and 
fortune,  to  reside  in  Kentucky,  which  I  es- 
teemed a  second  paradise. 

On  my  return  I  found  my  family  in  happy 
circumstances.  I  sold  my  farm  on  the  Yadkin, 
and  what  goods  we  could  not  carry  with  us, 
and  on  the  25th  of  September,  1773,  we  tools 
leave  of  our  friends,  and  proceeded  on  oui 
journey  to  Kentucky,  in  company  with  five 


ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE. 


265 


BOONE  SETTLES  ON  CLENCH  RIVER. 

more  families,  and  forty  men  that  joined  us 
in  Power  s  Yalley,  which  is  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  from  the  new  settled  parts  of  Ken- 
tucky. But  this  promising  beginning  was 
soon  overcast  with  a  cloud  of  adversity. 

On  the  10th  of  October,  the  rear  of  our 
company  was  attacked  by  a  party  of  Indians ; 
who  killed  six,  and  wounded  one  man.  Of 
these  my  eldest  son  was  one  that  fell  in  the 
action.  Though  we  repulsed  the  enemy,  yet 
this  unhappy  affair  scattered  our  cattle  and 

23 


266  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

brought  us  into  extreme  difficulty.  We  re- 
turned forty  miles  to  the  settlement  on  Clench 
river.  We  had  passed  over  two  mountains, 
Power  s  and  Walden's,  and  were  approaching 
Cumberland  mountain,  when  this  adverse 
fortune  overtook  us.  These  mountains  are  in 
the  wilderness,  in  passing  from  the  old  set- 
tlement in  Virginia  to  Kentucky ;  are  ranged 
in  a  south-west  and  north-east  direction ;  are 
of  great  length  and  breadth,  and  not  far  dis- 
tant from  each  other.  Over  them  nature  has 
formed  passes  less  difficult  than  might  be  ex- 
pected from  the  view  of  such  huge  piles.  The 
aspect  of  these  cliffs  is  so  wild  and  horrid, 
that  it  is  impossible  to  behold  them  without 
horror. 

Until  the  6th  of  June,  1774,  I  remained 
with  my  family  on  the  Clench,  when  myself 
and  another  person  were  solicited  by  Gover- 
nor Dunmore,  of  Virginia,  to  conduct  a  num- 
ber of  surveyors  to  the  Falls  of  Ohio.  This 
was  a  tour  of  eight  hundred  miles,  and  took 
sixty-two  days. 

On  my  return,  Governor  Dunmore  gave  me 


ADVENTUKES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE. 


2(5 


BOONE  ATTENDS  THE  INDIAN  TEEATT  AT  WATAGA. 

the  command  of  three  garrisons  during  the 
campaign  against  the  Shawanese.  In  March, 
1775,  at  the  solicitation  of  a  number  of  gentle- 
men of  North  Carolina,  I  attended  their  treaty 
at  Wataga  with  the  Cherokee  Indians,  to  pur- 
chase the  lands  on  the  south  side  of  Kentucky 
river.  After  this,  I  undertook  to  mark  out  a 
road  in  the  best  passage  from  the  settlements 
through  the  wilderness  to  Kentucky. 

Having  collected  a  number  of  enterprising 
men,  well  armed,  I  soon  began  this  work. 
We  proceeded  until  we  came  within  fifteen 
miles  of  where  Boonesborough  now  stands, 


268  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


^'^: 


SCENERY  ON  THE  KENTUCKY  RIVER. 

where  the  Indians  attacked  us,  and  killed 
two  and  wounded  two  more  of  our  party. 
This  was  on  the  22d  of  March,  1775.  Two 
days  after  we  were  again  attacked  by  them, 
when  we  had  two  more  killed  and  three 
wounded.  After  this  we  proceeded  on  to 
Kentucky  river  without  opposition. 

On  the  1st  of  April  we  began  to  erect  the 
fort  of  Boonesborough,  at  a  salt  lick  sixty 
yards  from  the  river,  on  the  south  side.  On 
the  4th,  the  Indians  killed  one  of  our  men. 
On  the  14th  of  June,  having  completed  the 
fort,  I  returned  to  my  family  on  the  Clench, 


ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  269 

and  whom  I  soon  after  removed  to  the  fort. 
My  wife  and  daughter  were  supposed  to  be 
the  first  white  women  that  ever  stood  on  the 
banks  of  Kentucky  river. 

On  the  24th  of  December,  the  Indians 
killed  one  of  our  men  and  wounded  another ; 
and  on  the  15th  of  July,  1776,  they  took  my 
daughter  prisoner.  I  immediately  pursued 
them  with  eight  men,  and  on  the  16th  over- 
took and  engaged  them.  I  killed  two  of  them, 
and  recovered  my  daughter. 

The  Indians  having  divided  themselves  into 
several  parties,  attacked  in  one  day  all  our 
infant  settlements  and  forts,  doing  a  great 
deal  of  damage.  The  husbandmen  were  am- 
bushed and  unexpectedly  attacked  while  toil- 
ing in  the  field.  They  continued  this  kind 
of  warfare  until  the  15th  of  April,  1777,  when 
nearly  one  hundred  of  them  attacked  the  vil- 
lage of  Boonesborough,  and  killed  a  number 
of  its  inhabitants.  On  the  16th  Colonel  Lo- 
gan's fort  was  attacked  by  two  hundred  In- 
dians.    There  were  only  thirteen  men  in  the 

23* 


270  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

fort,  of  whom  the  enemy  killed  two  and 
wounded  one. 

On  the  20th  of  August,  Colonel  Bowman 
arrived  with  one  hundred  men  from  Virginia, 
with  which  additional  force  we  had  almost 
daily  skirmishes  with  the  Indians,  who  began 
now  to  learn  the  superiority  of  the  "long 
knife,"  as  they  termed  us  the  Virginians ;  be- 
ing outgeneraled  in  almost  every  action.  Our 
affairs  began  now  to  wear  a  better  aspect,  the 
Indians  no  longer  daring  to  face  us  in  open 
field,  but  sought  private  opportunities  to  de- 
stroy us. 

On  the  7th  of  February,  1778,  while  on  a 
hunting  excursion  alone,  I  met  a  party  of 
one  hundred  and  two  Indians  and  two  French- 
men, marching  to  attack  Boonesborough. 
They  pursued  and  took  me  prisoner,  and  con- 
veyed' me  to  Old  Chilicothe,  the  principal  In- 
dian town  on  Little  Miami,  where  we  arrived 
on  the  18th  of  February,  after  an  uncomfort- 
able journey.  On  the  lOth  of  March  I  was 
conducted  to  Detroit,  and  while  there,  was 
treated  with   great  humanity  by   Governor 


ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  271 

Hamilton,  the  British  commander,  at  that 
post,  and  intendant  for  Indian  affairs. 

The  Indians  had  such  an  affection  for  me 
that  they  refused  one  hundred  pounds  sterling 
offered  them  by  the  governor,  if  they  would 
consent  to  leave  me  with  him,  that  he  might 
be  enabled  to  liberate  me  on  my  parole. 
Several  English  gentlemen  then  at  Detroit, 
sensible  of  my  adverse  fortune,  and  touched 
with  sympathy,  generously  offered  to  supply 
my  wants,  which  I  declined  with  many  thanks, 
adding  that  I  never  expected  it  would  be  in 
my  power  to  recompense  such  unmerited 
generosity. 

On  the  10th  of  April,  the  Indians  returned 
with  me  to  Old  Chilicothe,  were  .we  arrived 
on  the  25th.  This  was  a  long  and  fatiguing 
march,  although  through  an  exceeding  fertile 
country,  remarkable  for  springs  and  streams 
of  water.  At  Chilicothe  I  spent  my  time  as 
comfortably  as  I  could  expect ;  was  adopted 
according  to  their  custom,  into  a  family  where 
1  became  a  son,  and  had  a  great  share  in  the 
affection  of  my  new  parents,  brothers,  sisters, 


272  STOKIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

and  friends.  I  was  exceedingly  familiar  and 
friendly  with  them,  always  appearing  as 
cheerful  and  contented  as  possible,  and  they 
put  great  confidence  in  me.  I  often  went  a 
hunting  with  them,  and  frequently  gained 
their  applause  for  my  activity  at  our  shooting 
matches.  I  was  careful  not  to  exceed  many 
of  them  in  shooting,  for  no  people  are  more 
envious  than  they  in  this  sport.  I  could  ob- 
serve in  their  countenances  and  gestures  the 
greatest  expressions  of  joy,  when  they  ex- 
ceeded me,  and  when  the  reverse  happened, 
of  envy.  The  Shawanese  king  took  great  no- 
tice of  me,  and  treated  me  with  profound  re- 
spect and  entire  friendship,  often  entrusting 
me  to  hunt  at  my  liberty.  I  frequently  re- 
turned with  the  spoils  of  the  woods,  and  as 
often  presented  some  of  what  I  had  taken  to 
him,  expressive  of  duty  to  my  sovereign.  My 
food  and  lodging  was  in  common  with  them, 
not  so  good  indeed  as  I  could  desire,  but  ne- 
cessity made  every  thing  acceptable. 

I  now  began  to  meditate  an  escape,  and 
carefully  avoided  giving  suspicion.     I  con- 


ADVENTURES  OP  DANIEL  BOONE.  2^3 

tinued  at  Chilicothe  until  the  1st  day  of  June, 
when  I  was  taken  to  the  salt  springs  on  the 
Sciota,  and  there  employed  ten  days  in  the 
manufacturing  of  salt.  During  this  time  I 
hunted  with  my  Indian  masters,  and  found 
the  land,  for  a  great- extent  about  this  river, 
to  exceed  the  soil  of  Kentucky. 

On  my  return  to  Chilicothe,  one  hundred 
and  fifty  of  the  choicest  warriors  were  ready 
to  march  against  Boonesborough.  They  were 
painted  and  armed  in  a  frightful  manner. 
This  alarmed  me,  and  I  determined  to  escape. 

On  the  18th  of  June,  before  sun  rise,  I  went 
off  secretly,  and  reached  Boonesborough  on 
the  20th,  a  journey  of  one  hundred  and  sixty 
miles,  during  w^hich  I  had  only  one  meal.  I 
found  our  fortress  in  a  bad  state,  but  we  im- 
mediately repaired  our  flanks,  gates,  and  pos- 
terns, and  formed  double  bastions,  which  we 
completed  in  ten  days.  One  of  my  fellow, 
prisoners  escaped  after  me,  and  brought  ad- 
vice that  on  account  of  my  flight  the  Indians 
had  put  off  their  expedition  for  three  weeks. 

About  the  first  of  August  I  set  out  with 


274  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

nineteen  men,  to  surprise  Point  Creek  Town, 
on  Sciota,  within  four  miles  of  which  we  fell 
in  with  forty  Indians,  going  against  Boones- 
borough.  We  attacked  them  and  they  soon 
gave  way  without  any  loss  on  our  part.  The 
enemy  had  one  killed  and  two  wounded.  We 
took  three  horses  and  all  their  baggage.  The 
Indians  having  evacuated  their  town,  and 
gone  altogether  against  Boonesborough,  we  re- 
turned, passed  them  on  the  6th,  and  on  the 
7th  arrived  safe  at  Boonesborough. 

On  the  9  th  the  Indian  army,  consisting  of 
four  hundred  and  forty-four  men,  under  the 
command  of  Captain  Duquesne,  and  eleven 
other  Frenchmen  and  their  own  chiefs,  arrived 
and  summoned  the  fort  to  surrender.  I  re- 
quested two  days'  consideration,  which  was 
granted.  During  this  we  brought  in  through 
the  posterns  all  the  horses  and  other  cattle 
we  could  collect. 

On  the  9th,  in  the  evening,  I  informed  their 
commander  that  we  were  determined  to  defend 
the  fort  while  a  man  was  living.  They  then 
proposed  a  treaty,  they  would  withdraw.  The 


BOONE    TAKEN    PRISONER. 


ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL   BOONE.  277 

treaty  was  held  within  sixty  yards  of  the  fort, 
as  we  suspected  the  savages.  The  articles 
were  agreed  to  and  signed ;  when  the  Indians 
told  us  it  was  their  custom  for  two  Indians 
to  shake  hands  with  every  white  man  in  the 
treaty,  as  an  evidence  of  friendship.  We 
agreed  to  this  also.  They  immediately  grap- 
pled us  to  take  us  prisoners,  but  we  cleared 
ourselves  of  them,  though  surrounded  by  hun- 
dreds, and  gained  the  fort  safe,  except  one 
man,  who  was  wounded  by  a  heavy  fire  from 
the  enemy. 

The  savages  now  began  to  undermine  the 
fort,  beginning  at  the  water  mark  of  the  Ken- 
tucky river,  which  is  sixty  yards  from  the 
fort ;  this  we  discovered  by  the  water  being 
muddy  by  the  clay.  We  countermined  them 
by  cutting  a  trench  across  their  subterraneous 
passage.  The  enemy  discovering  this  by  the 
clay  we  threw  out  of  the  fort,  desisted.  On 
the  20th  of  August,  they  raised  the  siege, 
during  which  we  had  two  men  killed  and  four 
wounded.  We  lost  a  number  of  cattle.  The 
enemy  had  thirty-seven  killed,  and  a  much 

24 


278  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

larger  number  wounded.  We  picked  up  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  pounds  of  their  bul- 
lets, besides  what  stuck  in  the  logs  of  the  fort. 

In  July?  1779,  during  my  absence,  Colonel 
Bowman,  with  one  hundred  and  sixty  men, 
went  against  the  Shawanese  of  Old  Chilicothe. 
He  arrived  undiscovered.  A  battle  ensued 
which  lasted  until  ten  in  the  morning,  when 
Colonel  Bowman  retreated  thirty  miles.  The 
Indians  collected  all  their  strength  and  pur- 
sued him,  when  another  engagement  ensued 
for  two  hours,  not  to  Colonel  Bowman's  ad- 
vantage. Colonel  Harrod  proposed  to  mount 
a  number  of  horses,  and  break  the  enemy's 
line,  who  at  this  time  fought  with  remarkable 
fury.  This  desperate  measure  had  a  happy 
effect,  and  the  savages  fled  on  all  sides.  In 
these  two  engagements  we  had  nine  men 
killed  and  one  wounded.  The  enemy's  loss 
uncertain.     Only  two  scalps  were  taken. 

June  23d,  1780,  five  hundred  Indians  and 
Canadians,  under  Colonel  Bird,  attacked  Kid- 
dle and  Martin's  station,  on  the  forks  of  Lick- 
ing river,  with  six  pieces  of  artillery.     They 


ADVENTURES  OP  DANIEL  BOONE.  279 

took  all  the  inhabitants  captives,  and  killed 
one  man  and  two  women,  loading  the  others 
with  the  heavy  baggage,  and  such  as  failed 
in  the  journey  were  tomahawked. 

The  hostile  disposition  of  the  savages 
caused  General  Clark,  the  commandant  at  the 
Falls  of  Ohi-o,  to  march  with  his  regiment 
and  the  armed  force  of  the  country  against 
Peccaway,  the  principal  town  of  the  Shawa- 
nese,  on  a  branch  of  the  Great  Miami,  which 
he  attacked  with  great  success,  took  seventy 
scalps,  and  reduced  the  town  to  ashes,  with 
the  loss  of  seventeen  men. 

About  this  time  I  returned  to  Kentucky 
with  my  family ;  for  during  my  captivity,  my 
wife  thinking  me  killed  by  the  Indians,  had 
transported  my  family  and  goods  on  horses 
through  the  wilderness,  amidst  many  dangers, 
to  her  father's  house  in  North  Carolina. 

On  the  6th  of  October,  1780,  soon  after  my 
settling  again  at  Boonesborough,  I  went  with 
my  brother  to  the  Blue  Licks,  and  on  our  re- 
turn he  was  shot*  by  a  party  of  Indians,  who 
followed  me  by  the  scent  of  a  dog,  which  I 


280  STORIES  or  the  Indians. 

shot  and  escaped.  The  seventy  of  the  winter 
caused  great  distress  in  Kentucky,  the  enemy 
during  the  summer  having  destroyed  most 
of  the  corn.  The  inhabitants  lived  chiefly 
on  buffalo's  flesh. 

In  the  spring  of  1782,  the  Indians  harassed 
us.  In  May,  they  ravished,  killed,  and  scalped 
a  woman  and  her  two  daughters,  near  Ash- 
ton's  station,  and  took  a  negro  prisoner. 
Captain  Ashton  pursued  them  with  twenty- 
men,  and  in  an  engagement  which  lasted  two 
hours,  his  party  were  obliged  to  retreat,  hav- 
ing eight  killed,  and  four  mortally  wounded. 
Their  brave  commander  fell  in  the  action. 

August  18th,  two  boys  were  carried  off  from 
Major  Hoy's  station.  Captain  Hold  en  pur- 
sued the  enemy  with  seventeen  men,  who 
were  also  defeated,  with  the  loss  of  seven 
killed  and  two  wounded.  Our  affairs  became 
more  and  more  alarming.  The  savages  in- 
fested the  country  and  destroyed  the  whites 
as  opportunity  presented.  In  a  field  near 
■  Lexington,  an  Indian  shot  g,  man,  and  running 
to  scalp  him,  was  himself  shot  from  the  fort, 


ADVENTURES  9F  DANIEL  BOONE.  281 

and  fell  dead  upon  the  ground.     All  the  In- 
dian nations  were  now  united  against  us. 

August  loth,  five  hundred  Indians  and 
Canadians  came  against  Briat's  station,  five 
miles  from  Lexington.  They  assaulted  the 
fort  and  all  the  cattle  round  it ;  but  being 
repulsed,  they  ^retired  the  third  day,  having 
about  eighty  killed ;  their  wounded  uncertain. 
The  garrison  had  four  killed  and  nine  wounded. 

August  18th,  Colonels  Todd  and  Trigg,  Ma- 
jor Harland  and  myself,  speedily  collected 
one  hundred  and  seventy-six  men,  well  armed, 
and  pursued  the  savages.  They  had  marched 
beyond  the  Blue  Lick,  to  a  remarkable  bend 
of  the  main  fork  of  Licking  river,  about  forty- 
three  miles  from  Lexington,  where  we  over- 
took them  on  the  19th.  The  savages  observ- 
ing us,  gave  way,  and  we  being  ignorant  of 
their  numbers,  passed  the  river.  When  they 
saw  our  proceedings,  having  greatly  the  ad- 
vantage in  situation,  they  formed  their  line 
of  battle  from  one  end  of  Licking  to  the  other, 
about  a  mile  from  the  Blue  Licks.  The  en- 
gagement was  close  and  warm  for  about  fif- 

24* 


282  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

teen  minutes,  when  we  being  overpowered  by 
numbers,  were  obliged  to  retrea,t,  with  the  loss 
of  seventy-seven  men,  seven  of  whom  were 
taken  prisoners.  The  brave  and  much  la- 
mented Colonels  Todd  and  Trigg,  Major  Har- 
land,  and  my  second  son  were  among  the 
dead.  We  were  afterwards  informed  that  the 
Indians  on  numbering  their  dead,  finding 
that  they  had  four  more  killed  than  we,  four 
of  our  people  that  they  had  taken  were  given 
up  to  their  young  warriors,  to  be  put  to  death 
after  their  barbarous  manner. 

On  our  retreat  we  were  met  by  Colonel  Lo- 
gan, who  was  hastening  to  join  us  with  a 
number  of  well  armed  men.  This  powerful 
assistance  we  wanted  on  the  day  of  battle. 
The  enemy  said  one  more  fire  from  us  would 
have  made  them  give  way. 

I  cannot  reflect  upon  this  dreadful  scene, 
without  great  sorrow.  A  zeal  for  the  defence 
of  their  country  led  these  heroes  to  the  scene 
of  action,  though  with  a  few  men,  to  attack 
a  powerful  army  of  experienced  warriors. 
When  we  gave  way,  they  pursued  us  with  the 


ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE. ' 


283 


MOUNTED  MUSKETEER. 

utmost  eagerness,  and  in  every  quarter  spread 
destruction.  The  river  was  difficult  to  cross, 
and  many  were  killed  in  the  fight,  some  just 
entering  the  river,  some  in  the  water,  and 
others  after  crossing,  in  ascending  the  cliffs. 
Some  escaped  on  horseback,  a  few  on  foot ; 
and  being  dispersed  every  where,  in  a  few 
hours,  brought  the  melancholy  news  of  this 


284  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

unfortunate  battle  to  Lexington.  Many 
widows  were  made.  '  The  reader  may  guess 
what  sorrow  filled  the  hearts  of  the  inhabi- 
tants, exceeding  any  thing  that  I  am  able  to 
describe.  Being  reinforced,  we  returned  to 
bury  the  dead,  and  found  their  bodies  strewed 
every  where,  cut  and  mangled  in  a  dreadful 
manner.  This  mournful  scene  exhibited  a 
horror  almost  unparalleled :  some  torn  and 
eaten  by  wild  beasts ;  those  in  the  river  eaten 
by  fishes ;  and  all  in  such  a  putrid  condition 
that  no  one  could  be  distinguished  from 
another. 

When  General  Clark,  at  the  Falls  of  the 
Ohio,  heard  of  our  disaster,  he  ordered  an  ex- 
pedition to  pursue  the  savages.  We  overtook 
them  within  two  miles  of  their  town,  and  we 
should  have  obtained  a  great  victory  had  not 
some  of  them  met  us  when  about  two  hun- 
dred poles  from  their  camp.  The  savages 
fled  in  the  utmost  disorder,  and  evacuated 
all  their  towns.  We  burned  to  ashes  Old 
Chilicothe,  Peccaway,  New  Chilicothe,  and 
Wills  Town;    entirely  destroyed  their  corn 


ADVENTUBES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  285 

and  other  fruits,  and  spread  desolation  through 
their  country.  We  took  seven  prisoners  and 
fifteen  scalps,  and  lost  only  four  men,  two  of 
whom  were  accidentally  killed  by  ourselves. 
This  campaign  dampened  the  enemy,  yet  they 
made  secret  incursions. 

In  October,  a  party  attacked  Crab  Orchard, 
and  one  of  them  being  a  good  way  before  the 
others,  boldly  entered  a  house  in  which  were 
only  a  woman  and  her  children,  and  a  negro 
man.  The  savage  used  no  violence,  but  at- 
tempted to  carry  off  the  negro,  who  happily 
proved  too  strong  for  him,  and  threw  him  on 
the  ground,  and  in  the  struggle  the  woman 
cut  off  his  head  with  an  axe,  whilst  her 
daughter  shut  the  door.  The  savages  instantly 
came  up  and  applied  their  tomahawks  to  the 
door,  when  the  mother  putting  an  old  rusty 
gun  barrel  through  the  crevices,  the  savages 
immediately  went  off. 

From  that  time  till  the  happy  return  of 
peace  between  the  United  States  and  Great 
Britain,  the  Indians  did  us  no  mischief.  Soon 
after  this  the  Indians  desired  peace. 


286 


STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


Two  darling  sons  and  a  brother  I  have  lost 
by  savage  hands,  which  have  also  taken  from 
me  forty  valuable  horses,  and  abundance  of 
cattle.  Many  dark  and  sleepless  nights  have 
I  spent,  separated  from  the  cheerful  society 
of  men,  scorched  by  the  summer's  sun,  and 
pinched  by  the  winter's  cold,  an  instrument 
ordained  to  settle  the  wilderness. 


BURYIAG  THE  DEAD. 


ADYENTUEE  OF  GENEEAL  PUTNAM. 


^  <*, 


N  the  montli  of  August, 
1758,  five  hundred 
men  were  employed, 
under  the  orders  of 
Majors  Eogers  and 
Putnam,  to  watch  the 
g^  French  and  Indians, 
near  Ticonderoga.     At  South  Bay,  they  sepct- 

(2e:j 


288  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

rated  the  party  into  two  equal  divisions,  and 
Eogers  took  a  position  on  Wood  creek,  twelve 
miles  distant  from  Putnam. 

Upon  being,  sometime  afterwards,  disco- 
vered, they  formed  a  re-union,  and  concerted 
measures  for  returning  to  Fort  Edward.  Their 
march  through  the  woods,  was  in  three  divi- 
sions, by  files,  the  right  commanded  by  Eogers, 
the  left  by  Putnam,  and  the  centre  by  Cap- 
tain D'Ell.  The  first  night  they  encamped  on 
the  banks  of  Clear  river,  about  a  nlile  from 
old  Fort  Ann,  which  had  been  formerly  built 
by  General  Mcholson. 

Next  morning,  Major  Eogers  and  a  British 
officer,  named  Irwin,  incautiously  suffered 
themselves,  from  a  spirit  of  false  emulation, 
to  be  engaged  in  firing  at  a  mark.  Nothing 
could  have  been  more  repugnant  to  the  mili- 
tary principles  of  Putnam  than  such  conduct, 
or  reprobated  by  him  in  more  pointed  terms. 
As  soon  as  the  heavy  dew  which  had  fallen 
the  preceding  night  would  permit,  the  de- 
tachment moved  in  one  bod}^,  Putnam  being 
in  front,  D'Ell  in  centre,  and  Eogers  in  the 


ADVENTURE  OF  GENERAL  PUTNAM.  289 

I'bdr.  The  impervious  growth  of  shrubs,  and 
underbrush,  that  had  sprung  up,  where  the 
land  had  been  partially  cleared  some  years 
before,  occasioned  this  change  in  the  order 
of  march.  At  the  moment  of  moving,  the 
famous  French  partisan,  Molang,  who  had 
been  sent  with  five  hundred  men,,  to  intercept 
our  party,  was  riot  more  than  a  mile  and  a 
half  distant  from  them.  Having  heard  the 
firing,  he  hastened  to  lay  an  ambuscade  pre- 
cisely in  that  part  of  the  wood  most  favorable 
to  his  project.  Major  Putnam  was  just 
emerging  from  the  thicket,  into  the  common 
forest,  when  the  enemy  rose,  and  with  dis- 
cordant yells  and  whoops,  commenced  an  at- 
tack upon  the  right  of  his  division.  Sur- 
prised, but  undismayed,  Putnam  halted,  re- 
turned the  fire,  and  passed  the  word  for  the 
other  divisions  to  advance  for  his  support. 
D'EU  came.  The  action,  though  widely  scat- 
tered, and  principally  fought  between  man 
and  man,  soon  grew  general  and  intensely 
warm.  It  would  be  as  difficult  as  useless  to 
describe  this  irregular  and  ferocious  mode  of 

25 


290  STOKIBS  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

fighting.  Eogers  came  not  up;  but,  as  he 
declared  afterwards,  formed  a  circular  file  be- 
tween our  party  and  "Wood  creek,  to  prevent 
their  being  taken  in  rear  or  enfiladed.  Suc- 
cessful as  he  commonly  was,  his  conduct  did 
not  always  pass  without  unfavorable  imputa- 
tion. Notwithstanding,  it  was  a  current  say- 
ing in  the  camp,  ''  that  Eogers  always  sent, 
but  Putnam  led  his  men  to  action," — yet,  in 
justice,  it  ought  to  be  remarked  here,  that 
the  latter  has  never  been  known,  in  relating 
the  story  of  this  day's  disaster,  to  fix  any 
stigma  upon  the  conduct  of  the  former. 

Major  Putnam,  perceiving  it  would  be  im- 
practicable to  cross  the  creek,  determined  to 
maintain  his  ground.  Inspired  by  his  ex- 
ample, the  officers  and  men  behaved  with 
great  bravery :  sometimes  they  fought  collec- 
tively in  open  view,  and  sometimes  indivi- 
dually under  cover ;  taking  aim  from  behind 
the  bodies  of  trees,  and  acting  in  a  manner 
independent  of  each  other.  For  himself,  hav- 
ing discharged  his  fuzee  several  times,  at 
length  it  missed  fire,  whilst  the  muzzle  was 


ADVENTURE  OF  GENERAL  PUTNAM. 


291 


PUTNAM  TAKEN  PRISONER. 

pressed  against  the  breast  of  a  large  and  well 
proportioned  savage.  This  vrarrior,  availing 
himself  of  the  indefensible  attitude  of  his  ad- 
versary, with  a  tremendous  war-whoop  sprang 
forward,  with  his  lifted  hatchet,  and  compelled 
him  to  surrender ;  and  having  disarmed  and 
bound  him  fast  to  a  tree,  returned  to  the 
battle. 

The  intrepid  Captains  D'EU  and  Harman, 
who  now  commanded,  were  forced  to  give 
ground  for  a  little  distance ;  the  savages,  con- 
ceiving this  to  be  the  certain  harbinger  of 


292  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

victory,  rushed  impetuously  on,  with  dreadful 
and  redoubled  cries.  But  our  two  partisans, 
collecting  a  handful  of  brave  men,  gave  the 
pursuers  so  warm  a  reception  as  to  oblige 
them  in  turn,  to  retreat  a  little  beyond  the 
spot  at  which  the  action  had  commenced. 

Here  they  made  a  stand.  This  change  of 
ground  occasioned  the  tree,  to  which  Putnam 
was  tied,  to  be  directly  between  the  two  par- 
ties. Human  imagination  can  hardly  figure 
to  itself  a  more  deplorable  situation.  The 
balls  flew  incessantly  from  either  side,  many 
struck  the  tree,  while  some  passed  through 
the  sleeves  and  skirts  of  his  coat.  In  this 
state  of  jeopardy,  unable  to  move  his  body, 
to  stir  his  limbs,  or  even  to  incline  his  head, 
he  remained  more  than  an  hour.  So  equally 
balanced,  and  so  obstinate  was  the  fight  I 
At  one  moment,  while  the  battle  swerved  in 
in  favor  of  the  enemy,  a  young  savage  chose 
an  odd  way  of  discovering  his  humor.  He 
found  Putnam  bound.  He  might  have  de- 
spatched him  at  a  blow ;  but  he  loved  better 
to  excite  the  terrors  of  the  prisoner,  by  hurl- 


ADVENTURE  OF  GENERAL  PUTNAM.  293 

ing  a  tomahawk  at  his  head,  or  rather  it 
should  seem  his  object  was  to  see  how  near 
he  could  throw  it  without  touching  him — the 
weapon  struck  in  the  tree  a  number  of  times 
at  a  hair's  breadth  distant  from  the  mark. 
When  the  Indian  had  finished  his  amusement, 
a  French  officer,  (a  much  more  inveterate 
savage  by  nature,  though  descended  from  so 
humane  and  polished  a  nation,)  perceiving 
Putnam,  came  up  to  him,  and  leveling  a  fu- 
zee  within  a  foot  of  his  breast,  attempted  to 
discharge  it ;  it  missed  fire — inefiectually  did 
the  intended  victim  solicit  the  treatment  due 
to  his  situation,  by  repeating  that  he  was  a 
prisoner  of  war.  The  degenerate  officer  did 
not  understand  the  language  of  honor  or  of 
nature ;  deaf  to  their  voice,  and  dead  to  sen- 
sibility, he  violently  and  repeatedly  pushed 
the  muzzle  of  his  gun  against  Putnam's  ribs, 
and  finally  gave  him  a  cruel  blow  on  the  jaw 
with  the  butt  of  his  piece.  After  this  das- 
tardly deed  he  left  him. 

At  length  the  active  intrepidity  of  D'EU 
and  Harman,   seconded  by  the  persevering 

25* 


294  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

valor  of  their  followers,  prevailed.  They  drov(j 
from  the  field  the  enemy,  who  left  about 
ninety  dead  behind  them.  As  they  w^ere  re- 
tiring, Putnam  was  untied  by  the  Indian  who 
had  made  him  prisoner,  and  whom  he  after- 
wards called  master. 

Having  been  conducted  for  some  distance 
from  the  place  of  action,  he  was  stripped  of 
his  coat,  vest,  stockings,  and  shoes;  loaded 
with  as  many  packs  of  the  wounded  as  could 
be  piled  upon  him :  strongly  pinioned,  and 
his  wrists  tied  as  closely  together  as  they 
could  be  pulled  with  a  cord.  After  he  had 
marched  through  no  pleasant  paths,  in  this 
painful  manner,  for  many  a  tedious  mile,  the 
party,  who  were  excessively  fatigued,  halted 
to  breathe.  His  hands  were  now  immode- 
rately swelled  from  the  tightness  of  the  liga- 
ture ;  and  the  pain  had  become  intolerable. 
His  feet  were  so  much  scratched  that  the 
blood  dropped  fast  from  them.  Exhausted 
with  bearing  a  burden  above  his  strength, 
and  frantic  with  torments  exquisite  beyond 
endurance,  he  entreated  the  Irish  interpreter 


ADVENTURES  OF  GENERAL  PUTNAM.  295 

to  implore  as  the  last  and  only  grace  he  de- 
sired of  the  savages,  that  they  would  knock 
him  on  the  head  and  take  his  scalp  at  once, 
or  loose  his  hands. 

A  French  officer,  instantly  interposing,  or- 
dered his  hands  to  be  unbound,  and  some  of 
the  packs  to  be  taken  off.  By  this  time  the 
Indian  who  captured  him,  and  had  been  ab- 
sent with  the  wounded,  coming  up,  gave  him 
a  pair  of  moccasins,  and  expressed  great  in- 
dignation at  the  unworthy  treatment  his  pri- 
soner had  suffered. 

That  savage  chief  again  returned  to  the 
care  of  the  wounded,  and,  the  Indians,  about 
two  hundred  in  number,  went  before  the  rest 
of  the  party  to  the  place  where  the  whole 
were,  that  night,  to  encamp.  They  took  with 
them  Major  Putnam,  on  whom  (besides  innu- 
merable other  outrages)  they  had  the  barba- 
rity to  inflict  a  deep  wound  with  a  tomahawk, 
in  the  cheek.  His  sufferings  were  in  this  ■ 
place  to  be  consummated.  A  scene  of  horror, 
infinitely  greater  than  had  ever  met  his  eyes 
before,  was  now  preparing.     It  was  deter- 


296  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

mined  to  roast  him  alive.  For  this  purpose 
they  led  him  into  a  dark  forest,  stripped  him 
naked,  bound  him  to  a  tree,  and  piled  dried 
brush  with  other  fuel,  at  a  small  distance,  in 
a  circle  round  him.  They  accompanied  their 
labors,  as  if  for  his  funeral  dirge,  with  screams 
and  sounds  inimitable  but  by  savage  voices. 
Then  they  set  the  piles  on  fire.  A  sudden 
shower  damped  the  rising  flame.  Still  they 
strove  to  kindle  it,  until,  at  last,  the  blaze 
ran  fiercely  round  the  circle.  Major  Putnam 
soon  began  to  feel  the  scorching  heat.  His 
hands  were  so  tied  that  he  could  move  his 
body.  He  often  shifted  sides  as  the  fire  ap- 
proached. This  sight,  at  the  very  idea  of 
which  all  but  savages  must  shudder,  afforded 
the  highest  diversion  to  his  inhuman  tor- 
mentors, who  demonstrated  the  delirium  of 
their  Joy  by  corresponding  yells,  dances,  and 
gesticulations.  He  saw  clearly  that  his  final 
hour  was  inevitably  come.  He  summoned 
all  his  resolution  and  composed  his  mind,  as 
far  as  the  circumstances  could  admit,  to  bid 
an  eternal  farewell  to  all  he  held  most  dear. 


ADVENTURE  OF  GENERAL  PUTNAM.     297 

To  quit  the  world  would  scarcely  have  cost 
a  single  pang,  but  for  the  idea  of  home ;  but 
for  the  remembrance  of  domestic  endearments, 
of  the  affectionate  partner  of  his  soul,  and  of 
their  beloved  offspring.  His  thought  was  ul- 
timately fixed  on  a  happier  state  of  existence, 
beyond  the  tortures  he  was  beginning  to  en- 
dure. The  bitterness  of  death,  even  of  that 
death  which  is  accompanied  with  the  keenest 
agonies,  was,  in  a  manner,  past — nature,  with 
a  feeble  struggle,  was  quitting  its  last  hold 
on  sublunary  things — when  a  French  of&cer 
rushed  through  the  crowd,  opened  the  way 
by  scattering  the  burning  brands,  and  un- 
bound the  victim.  It  was  Molang  himself — 
to  whom  a  savage,  unwilling  to  see  another 
human  sacrifice  immolated,  had  run  and  com- 
municated the  tidings.  That  commandant 
spurned  and  severely  reprimanded  the  barba- 
rians, whose  nocturnal  powwows  and  hellish 
orgies  he  suddenly  ended.  Putnam  did  not 
want  for  feeling  and  gratitude.  The  French 
commander,  fearing  to  trust  him  alone  with 


% 


298  STORIES  OF  THE  mDIANS. 

them,   remained  until  he  could  deliver  him 
in  safety  into  the  hands  of  his  master. 

The  savage  approached  his  prisoner  kindly, 
and  seemed  to  treat  him  with  peculiar  affec- 
tion. He  offered  him  some  hard  biscuit,  but 
finding  that  he  could  not  chew  them,  on  ac- 
count of  the  blow  he  had  received  from  the 
Frenchman,  this  more  humane  savage  soaked 
some  of  the  biscuit  in  water  and  made  him 
suck  the  pulp-like  part.  Determined,  how- 
%  ever,  not  to  lose  his  captive  (the  refreshment 
being  finished)  he  took  the  moccasins  from 
his  feet  and  tied  them  to  one  of  his  wrists  ; 
then  directing  him  to  lie  down  on  his  back 
upon  the  bare  ground,  he  stretched  one  arm 
to  its  full  length,  and  bound  it  fast  to  a  young 
tree ;  the  other  arm  was  extended  and  bound 
in  the  same  manner — his  legs  were  stretched 
apart  and  fastened  to  two  saplings.  Then 
a  number  of  tall,  but  slender  poles  were  cut 
down;  which,  with  some  long  bushes,  were 
laid  across  his  body  from  head  to  foot:  on 
each  side  lay  as  many  Indians  as  could  con- 
veniently find  lodging,  in  order  to  prevent  the 


ADVENTURE  OF  GENERAL  PUTNAM.     299 

possibility  of  his  escape.  In  this  disagree- 
able and  painful  posture  he  remained  until 
morning.  During  this  night,  the  longest  and 
most  dreary  conceivable,  our  hero  used  to  re- 
late that  he  felt  a  ray  of  cheerfulness  come 
casually  across  his  mind,  and  could  not  even 
refrain  from  smiling,  when  he  reflected  on 
this  ludicrous  group  for  a  painter,,  of  which 
he  himself  was  the  principal  figure. 

The  next  day  he  was  allowed  his  blanket 
and  moccasins,  and  permitted  to  march  with- 
out carrying  any  pack,  or  receiving  any  in- 
sult. To  allay  his  extreme  hunger,  a  little 
bear's  meat  was  given  him,  which  he  sucked 
through  his  teeth.  At  night,  the  party  ar- 
rived at  Ticonderoga,  and  the  prisoner  was 
placed  under  a  French  guard.  The  savages, 
who  had  been  prevented  from  glutting  their 
diabolical  thirst  for  blood,  took  other  oppor- 
tunities of  manifesting  their  malevolence  for 
the  disappointment,  by  horrid  grimaces  and 
angry  gestures ;  but  they  were  suffered  no 
more  to  offer  violence  or  personal  indignity  to 
him. 


300  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

After  having  been  examined  by  the  Mar- 
quis de  Montcalm,  Major  Putnam  was  con- 
ducted to  Montreal,  by  a  French  officer,  who 
treated  him  with  the  greatest  indulgence  and 
humanity. 

At  this  place  were  several  prisoners.  Co- 
lonel Peter  Schuyler,  remarkable  for  his  phi- 
lanthropy, generosity,  and  friendship,  was  of 
the  number.  No  sooner  had  he  heard  of  Ma- 
jor Putnam's  arrival,  than  he  went  to  the  in- 
terpreter's quarters,  and  inquired  whether  he 
had  a  provincial  major  in  his  custody.  He 
found  Major  Putnam  in  a  comfortless  condi- 
tion— without  hat,  waistcoat,  or  hose — the 
remnant  of  his  clothing  miserably  dirty,  and 
ragged — his  beard  long  and  squalid — his  legs 
torn  by  thorns  and  briers — his  face  gashed 
with  wounds,  and  swollen  with  bruises.  Co- 
lonel Schuyler,  irritated  beyond  all  sufferance 
at  such  a  sight,  could  scarcely  restrain  his 
speech  within  limits  consistent  with  the  pru- 
dence of  a  prisoner,  and  the  meekness  of  a 
christian.  Major  Putnam  was  immediately 
treated  according  to  his  rank,  clothed  in  a 


ADVENTURE  OF  GENERAL  PUTNAM.     301 

decent  manner,  and  supplied  with  money  by 
that  liberal  and  sympathetic  patron  of  the 
distressed. 

The  capture  of  Frontenac,  by  General  Brad- 
street,  afforded  occasion  for  an  exchange  of 
prisoners :  Colonel  Schuyler  was  comprehended 
in  the  cartel.  A  generous  spirit  can  never 
be  satisfied  with  imposing  tasks  for  its  gene- 
rosity to  accomplish.  Apprehensive  if  it 
should  be  known  that  Putnam  was  a  distin- 
guished partisan,  his  liberation  might  be  re- 
tarded, and  knowing  that  there  were  officers, 
who,  from  the  length  of  their  captivity,  had 
a  claim  of  priority  to  exchange ;  he  had,  by 
his  happy  address,  induced  the  governor  to 
offer,  that  whatever  officer  he  might  think 
proper  to  nominate,  should  be  included  in  the 
present  cartel.  With  great  politeness  in 
manner,  but  seeming  indifference  as  to  object, 
he  expressed  his  warmest  acknowledgments 
to  the  governor,  and  said :  "  There  is  an  old 
man  here,  who  is  a  provincial  major,  and  he 
wishes  to  be  at  home  with  his  wife  and  child- 
ren.    He  can  do  no  good  here,  or  any  where 

26 


302 


STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


else:  I  believe  your  excellency  had  better 
keep  some  of  the  young  men,  who  have  no 
wife  or  children  to  care  for,  and  let  the  old 
fellow  go  home  with  me."  This  justifiable 
finesse  had  the  desired  effect." 


GEORGE  CALVERT,  THE  FIRST  LORD  BALTIMORE. 


THE  INDIANS  OF  ST.  MAKT'S. 

T  belonged  to  a  mem- 
ber of  the  once  do- 
minant sect  of  Ca- 
tholics to  glorify  his 
creed  and  clime,  and  to 
set  an  example  to  the 
world,  in  the  establish- 
ment of  complete  reli- 

cious  liberty.     To  George  Calvert,  the  origi- 
^  26*  (305) 


306  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

nator  of  the  scheme  for  colonizing  Maryland, 
this  honor  belonged;  but,  alas!  he  was  not 
permitted  to  execute  the  plans  his  noble 
heart  conceived,  for  death  snatched  him  from 
his  labors,  ere  the  boon  6e  contemplated  for 
the  world  was  ready  to  be  given. 

But  Cecil  Calvert  was  a  worthy  son  of  so 
great  a  father.  He  at  once  entered  into  all 
the  plans  of  his  deceased  parent,  and  with  a 
veneration  that  does  him  credit,  resolved  that 
they  should  be  carried  out  to  the  fullest  ex- 
tent ;  and  the  slightest  wish  the  old  lord  had 
expressed  in  regard  to  the  new  colony  should 
be  religiously  complied  with.  Bigots  sneered 
at  him,  enemies  maligned,  but,  conscious  of 
the  rectitude  of  his  purpose,  he  steadily  pur- 
sued his  plans. 

Under  the  guidance  of  Leonard  Calvert,  (a 
brother  of  the  proprietor,)  some  two  hundred 
English  gentlemen,  and  their  servants,  mostly 
of  the  catholic  persuasion,  sailed  for  the  pro- 
vince, in  November,  1633,  and  after  the  usual 
vicissitudes  and  adventures  of  a  sea  voyage  at 
that  period,  arrived  in  the  Potomac  in  the 


THE  INDIANS  OF  ST.  MARY'S.  307 

spring  of  1634.  A  small  party  was  despatched 
into  the  interior  to  explore  the  country  pre- 
vious to  effecting  a  permanent  settlement; 
the  woods  were  then  all  joyous  and  teeming 
with  grandeur,  and  loveliness  of  spring  tint- 
ing the  fair  face  of  nature  with  that  peculiar 
and  fascinating  beauty  which  is  better  felt 
than  described. 

To"  the  sea- worn  colonists,  the  country 
opened  before  them  as  a  broad  fair  haven, 
where  they  might  worship  God  free  as  the  air 
and  feel  themselves  men.  The  scouts  soon 
returned,  and,  according  to  their  direction, 
the  party  moved  up  to  a  spot  they  had  se- 
lected on  the  banks  of  a  clear  and  silvery 
stream  flowing  into  the  broad  river  they  had 
first  entered.  Here,  with  the  usual  cere- 
monies, Calvert  took  possession,  naming 
the  surrounding  country  "Marie-land,"  in 
honor  of  "  our  glorious  ladye,  the  queene  ;'^ 
and  in  gratitude  for  their  success  thus  far, 
they  named  the  river  St.  Mary. 

But  the  good  Cecil,  in  the  wise  provision 
for  the  wants  of  his  people  had  not  forgotten 


308  STORIES  OP  THE  INDIANS. 

the  rightful  lords  of  the  soil,  the  Indian  abo- 
rigines. "  Entreat  them  kindly  always,  I  con- 
jure you,  endeavor  assiduously  to  cultivate 
their  friendship,  and  above  all  take  no  land 
from  them  but  what  ye  might  pay  therefor." 
Such  were  the  mild  and  benevolent  instruc- 
tions of  the  proprietor,  and  faithfully  were 
they  carried  into  execution  by  his  brother, 
the  governor. 

Anxious,  therefore,  to  secure  his  settlement 
on  a  firm  basis,  and  to  obtain  an  acknow- 
ledged title  to  the  soil,  Calvert  submitted 
to  a  neighboring  chief,  his  propositions  to 
purchase  land  of  him,  but  received  an  answer 
of  sullen  indifference,  "  I  will  neither  bid  you 
go  nor  ask  you  to  stay."  Such  was  the  ad- 
dress and  courtesy  of  the  governor,  however, 
and  the  just  and  pacific  policy  of  his  people, 
that  not  only  was  the  stoic  warrior  won  over 
to  their  interests,  but  he  also  exerted  his  in- 
fluence with  the  neighboring  tribes,  on  behalf 
of  the  new  comers. 

Through  his  aid  a  council  of  the  neighbor- 
ing Indians  was  soon  convened.     The  gover- 


THE  INDIANS  OF  ST.  MARY'S.  309 

nor  appeared  in  pomp,  and  addressed  them, 
calling  them  brothers,  and  asking  for  a  piece 
of  ground,  that  he  and  his  people  might  plant 
corn,  and  the  red  man  and  the  pale  face  would 
live  together  in  peace  and  unity.  He  de- 
scribed to  them,  in  their  own  exaggerated 
rhetoric,  the  power  of  the  King  of  England, 
and  his  master,  the  Lord  of  Baltimore,  and 
told  them  the  kind  messages  he  had  sent  to 
his  forest  children. 

The  Indians  replied  in  the  language  of 
kindness  and  conciliation.  "The  white  man 
should  have  land — room  enough  for  both 
people — plenty  room — White  chief  very  good 
to  send  word  to  the  Indians."  The  governor 
and  chief  then  embraced  each  other,  and  the 
pipe  of  peace  was  passed  round  the  circle, 
each  one  gravely  taking  a  few  whiffs.  A  treaty 
was  then  made,  giving  to  the  settlers  a  con- 
siderable tract  of  land,  within  which  was  the 
Indian  town  of  Taocomoco. 

To  this  town  they  gave  the  name  of  St. 
Mary's,  in  honor  of  the  Virgin,  and  the  first 
building  erected  was  a  chapel  dedicated  to 


310  STORIES  OP  THE  INDIANS. 

her  worship.  The  Indians  looked  upon  the 
colonists  with  surprise,  they  mingled  freely 
with  them,  and  had  many  curious  and  amus- 
ing questions  to  ask  concerning  every  thing 
they  saw,  and  which  was  all  new  to  them. 

One  morning  a  party  ol  them  wandered 
into  the  church,  and  gazed  with  bewildered 
air  upon  the  pictures  and  crucifixes  with 
which  it  was  decorated.  Shortly  after  this, 
one  of  their  number  being  on  a  visit  to  the 
governor,  he  presented  him  with  a  rosary, 
having  a  small  crucifix  attached ;  the  happy 
fellow  received  it  with  a  yell  of  delight,  and 
ran  off  to  his  comrades,  whirling  up  his  prize, 
and  they  immediately  commenced  kneeling 
and  crossing  themselves  in  the  same  manner 
they  had  observed  the  worshippers  do  in  the 
chapel. 

It  is  something  refreshing  and  ennobling, 
amid  the  dark  and  sickening  catalogue  of  bi- 
gotry, slaughter,  and  desolating  wars  which 
disgraced  the  history  of  too  many  of  our 
states,  to  look  back  on  one  green  spot,  where 
fellow  men  were  not  spurned  and  despised 


THE  INDIANS  OF  ST.  MARl  S  311 

on  account  of  their  creed,  and  where  the  poor 
Indian  was  treated  with  kindness. 

Many  of  the  tribes  in  the  vicinity,  attracted 
by  curiosity,  and  the  good  name  given  to 
these  new  people,  came  to  the  settlement, 
and  their  chiefs  were  entertained  with  a 
sumptuous  feast  on  board  a  ship,  which  lay 
anchored  in  the  river,  the  King  of  Patuxent 
being  seated  at  the  table  between  the  Gover- 
nor of  Maryland,  and  the  Governor  of  Virginia, 
who  was  also  present  on  a  friendly  mission. 

When  the  storehouse  was  finished,  and  it 
became  necessary  to  unload  the  ships,  the 
governor,  in  order  to  gratify  his  Indian  friends, 
and  make  a  proper  impression  on  all  who 
were  inclined  to  be  enemies,  directed  it  to  be 
done  with  all  due  solemnity.  The  colors  were 
displayed,  and  the  colonists  clad  in  military 
costume,  paraded  under  arms,  to  the  strains 
of  martial  music,  the  sound  of  which  so  de- 
lighted the  Indians,  that  they  clapped  their 
hands  in  glee,  and  struck  off  in  one  of  their 
national  festive  dances. 

Volleys  of  musketry  were  fired  on  shore, 


312  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

and  answered  by  disoharges  of  cannon  on 
board  the  ship,  which  terrified  the  Indians 
so  highly,  that  they  fled  some  distance  into 
the  woods ;  but  finding  no  harm  done,  they 
returned  greatly  impressed  with  the  power  of 
the  people  who  could  bring  ''  the  big  thunder" 
to  their  aid.  Some  of  the  sachems  from  a 
distance,  being  present  at  this  exhibition, 
took  occasion  to  warn  the  Indians  of  Taoco- 
moco,  (or  St.  Mary's,  as  it  was  now  called,) 
to  keep  the  league  they  had  made  with  the 
English. 

The  old  King  of  Patuxent  in  particular 
showed  undecided  partiality  for  the  "good 
men,"  as  he  called  them.  He  remained  in 
town  several  days,  during  which  he  was 
treated  with  becoming  attention,  and  when 
about  to  leave,  made  use  of  this  remarkable 
expression,  to  the  governor:  "I  love  the  En- 
glish so  well,  that  if  they  should  go  about  to 
kill  me,  I  would  command  the  people  not  to 
avenge  my  death  ;  for  I  know  they  would  do 
QO  such  a  thing,  except  it  were  through  my 
own  fault." 


THE  KING  OF  PATUXEXT. 


THE  INDIANS  OF  ST.  MARY'S.  315 

At  length  the  ship  sailed,  leaving  the  colo- 
nists'alone  with  their  red  brethren.  Before 
he  left,  however,  the  captain  called  the  In- 
dians together,  and  told  them  he  was  going, 
and  they  must  be  kind  to  the  people  he  left 
behind,  and  he  would  tell  his  great  lord  how 
good  they  were. 

The  Indians  seemed  much  affected  when 
he  told  them  he  was  going,  and  pressed  around 
to  take  a  fai^well.  They  accompanied  him 
to  the  boat,  and  brought  some  of  their  forest 
furs,  and  bows,  and  ornamented  pipes,  which 
they  begged  him  to  give  "to  great  white 
chief,  and  tell  him  how  much  his  Indian 
children  love  him — thank  him  very  much, 
for  the  good  people  he  send  to  live  among  In- 
dians,— we  love  him  much,  and  we  love  his 
people.     We  be  all  English.'-' 

No  community  could  now  be  happier  than 
the  little  colony  on  the  St.  Mary's.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  golden  age  was  realized,  when  all 
men  should  dwell  together  in  peace  and  unity. 
The  English  and  the  Indians  lived  together 
in  St.  Mary's,  each  occupying  half  the  town 


316 


STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


CECIL  CALVERT. 


according  to  a  stipulation  between  them,  and 
the  utmost  harmony  prevailed. 

Once  a  party  of  them  visiting  the  gover- 
nor's, they  were  shown  a  portrait  of  the  pro- 
prietor, Cecil  Calvert,  the  second  Lord  Balti- 
more, which  they  regarded  in  silence  for  some 
time,  and  then  exclaimed,  "  great  father,  good 
father — He  love  us  much — we  love  him,"  and 
eagerly  inquired  if  he  would  ever  come  over 
and  see  them. 

Frequently  they  would  enter  the  chapel 


THE  INDIANS  OF  ST.  MARY'S.  3]  7 

when  the  coDgregation  was  at  worship,  and 
would  look  with  respectful  attention  on  the 
ceremonies.  The  worthy  pastor  of  the  colo- 
nists, early  took  a  great  interest  in  the  wel- 
fare of  the  Indians.  He  delighted  to  see  them 
in  the  chapel,  and  would  tell  them  to  come 
often.  A  class  of  native  children  was  soon 
formed  to  learn  the  catechism,  and  some  few 
of  the  adults  were  won  over  to  the  catholic 
faith,  and  were  received  into  the  church  by 
baptism,  with  becoming  ceremony.  The  good 
priest  was  very  kind  to  his  Indian  charge ;  he 
would  enter  their  wigwams  and  talk  to  them, 
and  give  them  little  pictures  of  the  saints, 
and  small  rosaries,  which  they  stuck  up  in 
conspicuous  places  and  highly  esteemed. 

In  this  way  he  won  their  gratitude  and  af- 
fection, until  he  came  to  be  regarded  by 
them  with  dutiful  awe  and  reverence,  and  re- 
ceived the  title  of  father,  the  same  which  the 
whites  gave  him.  They  would  say,  "big 
chief  grfiat  man — Father  also  great,  he  be 
good — talk  kind  to  Indian — Indian  sick — he 
give  him  good  medicine  make  him  well.  Fa- 

27* 


318  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

ther  great  medicine-man,  him  big  doctor  beat 
Indian  medicine-man." 

The  natives  testified  their  friendly  dispo- 
sition, by  going  every  day  into  the  woods 
with  their  new  neighbors,  pointing  out  the 
best  resorts  of  game,  joining  in  the  chase 
with  them,  and  when  the  whites  were  too 
busy  to  hunt,  they  would  go  alone,  and  bring 
home  venison  and  wild  turkies  in  abundance, 
which  they  would  lay  at  the  feet  of  the  set-  '' 
tiers,  and'  go  away  well  satisfied  with  the 
cheap  requital  of  knives,  beads,  and  toys. 

Observing  that  the  whites,  one  day  in  the 
week,  use  fish  instead  of  meat,  and  were  de- 
sirous of  obtaining  a  sufficient  supply  of  it, 
^  they  would  go  and  fish  for  them,  and  bring 
every  Friday  morning  an  abundance  for  the 
whole  settlement. 

They  likewise  showed  them  the  best  places 
in  the  river  for  fishing  stations,  and  instructed 
them  in  their  own  methods  of  catching  the 
various  kinds  of  fish  that  inhabited  the  shal- 
low waters.  From  these  resources,  the  colo- 
nists were  so  abundantly  supplied,  and  the 


TrilE  INDIANS  OF  ST.  MARY'S.  321 

provisions  they  had  brought  with  them  so 
extended,  that  every  one  enjoyed  plenty 
through  the  entire  winter,  and  the  times  of 
starving  and  desolation  so  common  in  the 
history  of  other  colonies  were  unknown  in 
the  homes  of  the  peaceful  Marylanders. 

Altogether,  the  settlers  and  the  aborigines 
were  so  thoroughly  mixed  in  friendship  and 
intercourse,  that  they  seemed  as  one  people 
in  thought  and  feeling,  differing  only  in  the 
distinctions  which  nature  herself  had  imposed. 
The  Indians  were  allowed  freely  to  enter  the 
dwellings  of  the  whites,  at  any  time  they 
chose,  the  doors  never  being  fastened  against 
them.  They  would  frequently  come  and  eat 
with  them,  and  sleep  under  their  roofs,  and 
many  of  the  whites  would  pay  similar  visits 
to  the  lodges  at  the  other  end  of  the  town. 

Their  women  also  instructed  the  wives  of 
the  colonists  in  making  bread  of  maize,  which 
soon  became  a  staple  article  of  diet,  and  the 
cultivation  of  corn  was  extensively  entered 
into.  As  a  certain  mark  of  entire  confidence 
of  the  Indians,  their  women  and  children  be- 


322  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

came  in  a  great  measure  domesticated  in  the 
the  English  families,  and  were  treated  in 
every  respect  on  a  perfect  equality  with  the 
whites. 

During  the  cold  weather,  when  the  men 
were  in  a  great  measure  unemployed,  the  na- 
tives instructed  them  in  the  various  ways  of 
pursuing  game,  the  snares  laid  for  them,  and 
the  best  method  of  approaching  the  unsus- 
j)ecting  prey.  One  very  singular  mode  of 
gaining  on  the  deer,  in  which  they  initiated 
the  whites,  until  they  became  by  practice 
almost  as  expert  as  themselves,  deserves  par- 
ticular mention:  An  Indian  hunter  and  a 
party  of  whites,  go  into  the  woods  together, 
and  presently  discover  a  deer  in  the  dis- 
tance, feeding,  and  warily  watching  for  danger, 
the  whites,  as  directed,  would  hide  themselves 
behind  a  rock,  and  the  Indian,  putting  on 
the  skin  of  a  deer,  to  which  the  head  and 
horns  were  left  attached,  would  creep  along, 
in  a  circuitous  direction,  towards  the  deer, 
mimicking  to  perfection  the  gait  and  ap- 
pearance of  that  animal.    Cautiously  advanc- 


K 
"^ 

CO 

a 

o 

H 
I— I 

o 

a 

SI 

03 

O 

•«1 

CQ 

> 


I 


THE  INDIANS  OF  ST.  MARY'S.  325 

ing,  pretending  all  the  time  to  be  feeding,  he 
would  approach  the  animal,  until  he  had  ex- 
cited its  attention,  when  it  would  raise  its 
head  and  look  curiously  at  him,  when  he  was 
within  a  few  feet  of  it,  he  would  partially 
disengage  himself  from  his  covering,  and 
drawing  out  his  bow  and  arrow,  with  which 
he  was  previously  provided,  would  take  de- 
liberate and  fatal  aim,  and  speedily  bring  the 
noble  beast  to  the  ground. 

In  the  following  spring,  the  natives  from  a 
distance  assembled  to  carry  on  a  trade  with 
the  strangers,  which  was  conducted  to  the 
mutual  advantage  of  both  parties.  The  arti- 
cles exchanged  were  deer  skins,  and  the  furs 
of  smaller  animals,  on  the  one  side,  and  strips 
of  cloth,  tools,  and  various  trinkets  on  the 
other,  and  by  these  means  a  considerable 
quantity  of  peltries  was  collected. 

Shortly  after  this,  to  the  joy  of  all  parties, 
a  ship  arrived  with  stores  and  reinforcements 
from  England,  and  having  on  board  a  no  less 
distinguished  personage  than  the  noble  Lord  of 
Baltimore.  He  was  welcomed  with  an  enthusi- 

28 


826  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

astic  delight,  and  the  highest  honors  their 
little  state  could  bestow. 

N'or  were  the  Indians  less  pleased  to  hear 
of  his  arrival.  The  representations  of  the  go- 
vernor, and  the  amiable  conduct  of  his  people, 
had  so  favorably  impressed  them  that  they 
were  willing  to  reverence  him  before  they  had 
seen  him. 

The  next  day  a  large  party  desired  an  in- 
terview with  his  lordship,  and  he  was  pleased 
to  gratify  them.  They  had  brought  with 
them  many  tokens  of  good  feeling  and  respect, 
which  they  deposited  before  him.  Some 
brought  a  whole  deer,  others  a  package  of 
dried  fish,  wampum  belts,  tobacco,  and  such 
other  things  as  valuing  themselves  they 
thought  would  be  pleasing  to  him.  They  pre- 
sented their  offerings  with  such  genuine  ex- 
pressions of  .gratitude  and  devoted  attach- 
ment that  the  good  Calvert  was  highly  moved 
at  his  reception  by  these  rude  foresters. 

One  of  the  chiefs  then  made  a  speech  to 
him,  in  which  he  expressed  on  behalf  of  him- 
self and  companions,  the  great  joy  they  felt 


THE  INDIANS  OF  ST.  MARY'S.  327 

on  being  permitted  to  behold  their  great  fa- 
ther, t  ey  thanked  him  for  the  good  message 
he  had  sent  them  from  the  first,  declared  their 
willingness  to  serve  him  in  any  manner  they 
were  able. 

Calvert  replied  in  an  appropriate  style,  of 
which  they  expressed  their  approbation  by 
the  wild  geticulations  of  their  own  race ;  he 
then  invited  them  to  a  grand  entertainment, 
prepared  for  them  in  the  garden,  at  which  he 
presided,  with  the  chiefs  on  his  right  hand, 
and  completely  won  their  hearts  by  his  dig- 
nified bearing,  his  sweetness  of  manners,  and 
the  interest  he  appeared  to  take  in  his  guests. 
After  the  feast  was  over,  they  performed  for 
his  diversion  a  number  of  their  national 
dances.  A  circle  was  formed,  and  the  assu- 
rances of  friendship  renewed,  the  pipe  of 
peace  was  then  produced,  and  passed  around 
from  mouth  to  mouth,  Baltimore,  to  their  de- 
light, indulging  in  a  fewwhifi's;  they  then, 
separated  and  returned  to  their  places. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  kindly  interest 
this  good  nobleman  displayed  in  the  welfare 


328  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

of  the  Indians.  Almost  as  soon  as  lie  landed 
he  made  himself  active  in  their  cause,  the 
first  business  he  engaged  in  being  an  inquiry 
into  the  treatment  of  the  Indians. 

He  professed  himself  highly  gratified,  by 
the  faithful  manner  in  which  his  instructions 
had  been  carried  out  by  the  colonists,  and 
commended  them  therefor.  He  immediately 
renewed  and  extended,  all  the  rights  and  pri- 
vileges originally  retained  by  them,  and  de- 
creed that  all  offences  committed  against 
them  should  be  punished  exactly  as  aggres- 
sions against  the  whites.  He  visited  them 
in  their  wigwams,  distributing  a  large  quan- 
tity of  valuable  presents  he  had  brought  with 
him  for  the  purpose. 

He  endeavored  to  make  himself  acquainted 
with  their  internal  arrangements,  and  to  ob- 
serve their  manners  and  customs,  he  went 
with  them  into  the  woods,  to  witness  their 
mode  of  hunting  and  fishing,  which  they  were 
proud  to  display  before  him,  and  in  token  of 
the  esteem  his  conduct  had  won  from  them, 
they  bestowed  upon  him  the  endearing  title 


THE  INDIANS  OF  ST.  MART's.  329 

of  ''  our  own  chief."  With  the  assistance  of 
the  good  padre,  the  proprietor  perfected  many 
plans  for  ameliorating  the  condition  of  his 
Indian  subjects,  for  their  moral  and  intellec- 
tual culture,  a  school  was  at  once  opened,  and 
thither  resorted  a  number  of  children  of  the 
surrounding  tribes. 

One  day  a  great  chieftain  from  beyond  the 
mountains,  in  the  most  western  part  of  the 
colony,  repaired  to  St.  Mary's,  to  make  his 
obeisance  to  the  proprietor,  the  fame  of  whose 
'merits  and  condescension  had  reached  his 
ears.  He  heard  with  wonderment,  the  many 
strange  stories  told  him  by  his  friends,  who 
lived  among  the  whites,  and  approached  the 
palace  of  the  governor  with  superstitious  awe. 

By  command  of  Baltimore  he  was  received 
with  as  much  show  and  parade  as  they  could 
assume,  and  it  seemed  t-  have  had  its  intended 
effect  upon  him ;  every  hing  in  the  place  at- 
tracted his  attention,  an  )  called  forth  expres- 
sions of  delight.  Seeing  the  fondness  he 
evinced  for  bright  things,  the  governor  pre- 
sented him  with  a  shining  pewter  dish,  which 

28* 


330  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

he  suspended  around  his  neck  and  seemed  to 
regard  it  as  a  peculiar  mark  of  honor  and 
distinction. 

More  settlers  continued  to  arrive,  and  under 
the  fostering  care  of  Lord  Baltimore,  aided 
by  the  friendship  of  the  Indians,  the  new  co- 
lony in  a  short  time  became  exceedingly 
flourishing  and  prosperous. 

Wot  very  long  after  the  arrival  of  Baltimore, 
the  good  priest,  whom  the  Indians  loved,  con- 
tracted a  fatal  disease,  while  visiting  them, 
and  in  a  short  time  died,  deeply  lamented  by 
both  his  white  and  red  friends.  To  testify 
their  respect  for  him,  they  attended  his  fune- 
ral in  a  body,  and  looked  on  with  a  tearful  eye, 
while  the  remains  of  their  friend  were  lowered 
in  the  grave.  When  the  funeral  service  was 
over,  one  of  them  stepped  forth,  and  in  an 
appropriate  speech,  signified  to  the  governor 
their  sincere  sorrow  and  condolence  in  the 
loss  which  both  parties  had  sustained. 

They  then  retired  to  their  lodges,  where  a 
solemn  fast  and  lamentation  for  the  dead  was 
held,  the  squaws  beating  their  breasts  and 


THE  INDIANS  OP  ST.  MARY's. 


331 


tearing  their  hair  in  a  frantic  manner,  while 
the  men  sat  around  in  solemn  and  dignified 
silence. 

Thus  happily  were  the  seeds  of  the  future 
commonwealth  of  Maryland  planted;  thus 
kindly  and  considerately  were  the  natives 
treated;  and  nobly  did  they  repay  it,  in  the 
peace,  good-feeling,  and  fellowship  they  long 
entertained  for  the  settlers. 


BED  JACKET. 

I  HE  famous  Red  Jacket 
was  a  chief  of  the  Se- 
necas.  His  Indian 
name,  Sagouatha,  or, 
one  who  keeps  awake, 
was  affixed  to  many 
of  the  important  trea- 
ties concluded  between 

the  Senecas  and  the  white  people,  and  he 

(332) 


RED  JACKET.  333 

became  renowned  among  both  races  for  his 
wisdom  and  eloquence.  Without  the  advan- 
tages of  illustrious  descent,  and  with  no  ex- 
traordinary military  talents,  Eed  Jacket  rose 
to  a  high  position  in  the  esteem  of  the  red 
men.  In  the  year  1805,  a  council  was  held 
at  Buffalo,  New  York,  at  which  many  of  the 
Seneca  chiefs  and  warriors  were  present.  At 
this  council,  Eed  Jacket  made  a  speech,  in 
answer  to  a  missionary  from  Massachusetts, 
which  in  force  and  eloquence  was  worthy  of 
the  great  orators  of  antiquity.  The  follow- 
ing is  the  most  remarkable  portion  of  this 
great  effort : 

'^  Friend  and  Brother :  It  was  the  will  of 
the  Great  Spirit  tha^fc  we  should  meet  together 
this  day.  He  orders  all  things,  and  he  has 
given  us  a  fine  day  for  our  council.  He  has 
taken  his  garment  from  before  the  sun,  and 
caused  it  to  shine  with  brightness  upon  us ; 
our  eyes  are  opened,  that  we  see  clearly ;  our 
ears  are  unstopped,  that  we  have  been  able 
to  hear  distinctly  the  words  that  you  have 


834  -STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

spoken;  for  all  tliese  favors  we  thank  the 
Great  Spirit,  and  him  only. 

"  Brother,  this  council-fire  was  kindled  by 
you ;  it  was  at  your  request  that  we  came  to- 
gether at  this  time ;  we  have  listened  with 
attention  to  what  you  have  said ;  you  request 
us  to  speak  our  minds  freely ;  this  gives  us 
great  joy,  for  we  now  consider  that  we  stand 
upright  before  you,  and  can  speak  what  we 
think ;  all  have  heard  your  voice,  and  all 
speak  to  you  as  one  man;  our  minds  are 
agreed. 

"  Brother,  you  say  you  want  an  answer  to 
your  talk  before  you  leave  this  place.  It  is 
right  you  should  have  one,  as  you  are  a  great 
distance  from  home,  and  we  do  not  wish  to 
detain  you ;  but  we  will  first  look  back  a  little, 
and  tell  you  what  our  fathers  have  told  us, 
and  what  we  have  heard  from  the  white  people. 

"Brother,  listen  to  what  I  say.  There  was 
a  time  when  our  forefathers  owned  this  great 
island.  Their  seats  extended  from  the  rising 
to  the  setting  sun.  The  Great  Spirit  had 
made  it  for  the  use  of  Indians.      He  had 


EED  JACKET.  335 

created  the  buffalo,  the  deer,  and  other  ani- 
mals for  food.  He  made  the  bear,  and  the 
beaver,  and  their  skins  served  us  for  clothing. 
He  had  scattered  them  over  the  country,  and 
taught  us  how  to  take  them.  He  had  caused 
the  earth  to  produce  corn  for  bread.  All  this 
he  had  done  for  his  red  children  because  he 
loved  them.  If  we  had  any  disputes  about 
hunting-grounds,  they  were  generally  settled 
without  the  shedding  of  much  blood :  but  an 
evil  day  came  upon  us:  your  forefathers 
crossed  the  great  waters,  and  landed  on  this 
island.  Their  numbers  'were  small ;  they 
found  friends,  and  not  enemies ;  they  told  us 
they  had  fled  from  their  own  country  for  fear 
of  wicked  men,  and  come  here  to  enjoy  their 
religion.  They  asked  for  a  small  seat;  we 
took  pity  on  them,  granted  their  request,  and 
they  sat  down  amongst  us;  we  gave  them 
corn  and  meat ;  they  gave  us  poison  in  return. 
The  white  people  had  now  found  our  country, 
tidings  were  carried  back,  and  more  came 
amongst  us ;  yet  we  did  not  fear  them,  we 
took  them  to  be  friends ;  they  called  us  bro- 


336  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

thers;  we  believed  them,  and  gave  them  a 
larger  seat.  At  length  their  numbers  had 
greatly  increased ;  they  wanted  more  land  ; 
they  wanted  our  country.  Our  eyes  were 
opened,  and  our  minds  became  uneasy.  Wars 
took  place ;  Indians  were  hired  to  fight  against 
Indians,  and  many  of  our  people  were  de- 
stroyed. They  also  brought  strong  liquors 
among  us :  itvwas  strong  and  powerful,  and 
has  slain  thousands." 

The  effect  of  this  speech  was  such  that  the 
missionaries  who  had  called  the  council,  were 
forced  to  give  up  aH  attempts  at  making  con- 
verts among  the  Senecas.  Eed  Jacket  took 
l^art  with  the  Americans  in  the  war  of  1812, 
and  on  all  occasions  displayed  a  cool  and  de- 
liberate bravery,  which  contrasted  well  with 
the  rashness  of  Tecumseh  and  other  great 
chiefs.  He  became  attached  to  some  of  the 
American  ofiBicers,  and  after  the  war  regretted 
much  to  part  with  them. 

Like  Tecumseh,  Red  Jacket  made  a  skilful 
use  of  superstition  to  obtain  an  influence  over 
his  tribe.     Having,  in  some  way,  lost  the  con- 


COUNCIL  OF  INDIANS. 


RED  JACKET.  339 

fidence  of  his  red  brethren,  he  prevailed  upon 
his  brother  to  announce  himself  a  prophet, 
commissioned  by  the  Great  Spirit  to  restore 
his  countrymen  to  their  lost  land  and  power. 
By  skilful  reasoning,  Ked  Jacket  persuaded 
the  superstitious  Indians  to  believe  in  his 
brother's  infallibility.  Good  resulted  from 
this  deception.  The  Onondagas  were  at  that 
period  the  most  drunken  and  profligate  of  the 
Iroquois.  They  were  now  persuaded  to  abstain 
from  ardent  spirits,  became  sober  and  indus- 
trious, and  observed  and  obeyed  the  laws  of 
morality.  But  the  imposture  was  at  length 
exposed  by  the  extremes  into  which  it  led 
many  of  the  red  men.  Many  were  denounced 
as  possessed  by  evil  spirits,  and  would  have 
been  burned  by  the  superstitious,  if  the  whites 
had  not  interfered. 

In  a  council  of  Indians  held  at  Buffalo  creek, 
Red  Jacket  was  denounced  as  the  author  of 
these  troubles^  ancj  brought  to  trial;  but  his 
eloquence  saved  his  life  and  greatly  increased 
his  fame.  In  a  speech  of  three  hours'  length, 
he  completely  overthrew  the  accusations  of 


840  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

his  enemies,  and  was  triumpliantly  acquitted. 
This  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  displays 
of  eloquence  to  be  found  in  history. 

Many  anecdotes  are  related  of  Ked  Jacket, 
which  illustrated  his  qualities  of  head  and 
heart.  When  at  Washington  he  visited  the 
rotunda  of  the  capitol,  and  was  shown  the 
panel  which  represented  the  first  landing  of 
tlie  pilgrims  at  Plymouth,  with  an  Indian 
chief  presenting  them  with  an  ear  of  corn,  in 
token  of  welcome.  Red  Jacket  said,  "  That 
was  good ;  he  knew  they  came  from  the  Great 
Spirit,  and  was  willing  to  share  the  soil  with 
his  brothers."  But  when  he  turned  to  view 
another  panel,  representing  Penn's  Treaty,  he 
said,  ''Ah!  all's  gone  now!"  These  few 
words  expressed  a  deal  of  truth  and  a  feeling 
of  regret. 

When  Lafayette  was  at  Buffalo,  in  1825, 
among  those  who  called  upon  him  was  Red 
Jacket,  who  resided  near  that  town,  and  by 
years  and  intemperance  had  been  much  worn 
down.  He  remembered  Lafayette,  having 
seen  him  at  an  Indian  council  held  at  Fort 


RED  JACKET.  341 

Schuyler,  1784.  He  asked  the  general  if  he 
recollected  that  meeting.  The  general  replied 
that  he  had  not  forgotten  it,  and  asked  Eed 
Jacket  if  he  knew  what  had  become  of  the 
young  chief,  who,  in  that  council,  opposed 
with  such  eloquence  the  burying  of  the  toma- 
hawk. Eed  Jacket  replied,  "  He  stands  before 
ymiV  The  general  observed  that  time  had 
much  changed  them  since  that  meeting.  "Ah," 
said  Eed  Jacket,  "  time  has  not  been  so  severe 
upon  you  as  it  has  upon  me.  It  has  left  you 
a  fresh  countenance,  and  hair  to  cover  your 
head;  while  to  me — behold!"  And  taking 
a  handkerchief  from  his  head,  he  showed  that 
it  was  entirely  bald. 

Eed  Jacket  always  opposed  the  introduc- 
tion of  missionaries  among  his  people,  and 
with  a  force  of  reasoning,  the  white  agents 
could  not  resist.  He  believed  that  the  whites 
should  first  practice  the  virtues  they  preached 
to  the  red  men ;  and  he  had  seen  too  much 
evil  follow  in  the  white  man's  steps  to  wish 
his  men  to  tread  the  same  path. 

Not  long  before  his  death,  Eed  Jacket  was 

29* 
/ 


342  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

visited  by  Mr.  Catlin,  the  celebrated  author 
of  a  most  complete  work  upon  the  Indians  of 
Korth  America.  He  then  resided  near  Buf- 
falo, and  was  the  head  chief  of  all  the  remain- 
ing Iroquois.  Mr.  Catlin  painted  his  portrait, 
and  represented  him  as  he  wished,  standing 
on  the  Table  Rock,  at  the  Falls  of  Niagara ; 
about  which  place  he  thought  his  spirit  would 
linger  after  his  death.  Red  Jacket  died  in 
1836.  A  handsome  and  appropriate  monu- 
ment was  erected  over  his  grave,  by  Mr.  Henry 
Placide,  the  comedian;  and  more  lasting 
monuments,  in  historical  form,  have  been 
written  by  distinguished  authors.  As  an 
orator,  this  gifted  chief  was  equal  to  any  of 
modern  times.  His  speeches  display  the 
greatest  sagacity  and  sublimity  of  ideas,  with 
the  greatest  force  and  condensation  of  ex- 
pression. His  gestures  while  speaking  are 
said  to  have  been  singularly  significant ;  and 
the  features  of  his  face,  particularly  his  pierc- 
ing eyes,  full  of  expression.  He  was  in  truth, 
a  "  forest-born  Demosthenes." 


MR.  CATLIN. 


WEATHEEFORD. 

EATHEEFORD  was  the 
principal  chief  of  the 
Creeks^  during  the  war 
iu  which  the  power  of 
that  nation  was  broken 
and  destroyed  by  Gene- 
ral Jackson.  In  his  cha- 
racter was  found  that  union  of  great  virtues 

(345) 


346  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANA. 

and  vices  whicli  has  made  up  the  character 
of  many  celebrated  men  among  civilized  na- 
tions. With  avarice,  treachery,  lust,  gluttony, 
and  a  thirst  for  blood,  nature  gave  Weather- 
ford,  genius,  eloquence,  and  courage.  Seldom 
has  an  Indian  appeared,  more  capable  of 
planning  and  executing  great  designs.  His 
judgment  and  eloquence  secured  him  the  re- 
spect of  the  old ;  his  vices  made  him  the  idol 
of  the  young  and  unprincipled.  In  his  person, 
he  was  tall,  straight,  and  well  proportioned ; 
his  eyes  black,  lively,  and  piercing ;  his  nose 
aquiline  and  thin ;  while  all  the  features  of 
his  face,  harmoniously  arranged,  spoke  an 
active  and  disciplined  mind. 

It  was  Weatherford's  talents  and  deter- 
mined spirit  which  prolonged  the  war  against 
the  whites,  which  began  in  August,  1813. 
When  the  power  of  the  Creeks  had  been 
broken,  and  great  numbers  of  them  had  fallen, 
many  of  their  chiefs  and  warriors  came  to 
General  Jackson,  and  surrendered  themselves 
prisoners.  Weatherford,  with  a  few  followers, 
boldly  maintained  his  hostile  attitude.     Ge- 


GENERAL  JACKSON. 


WEATHERFORD.  349 

neral  Jackson,  to  test  the  fidelity  of  those 
chiefs  who  submitted,  ordered  them  to  deliver, 
without  delay,  Weatherford,  bound,  into  his 
hands,  that  he  might  be  dealt  with  as  he  de- 
served. The  warriors  made  known  to  Weather- 
ford  what  was  required  of  them.  His  noble 
spirit  would  not  submit  to  such  degradation ; 
and  he  resold ed  to  yield  himself  without 
compulsion. 

Accordingly,  Weatherford  proceeded  to  the 
American  camp,  unknown,  and  under  some 
pretence,  was  admitted  to  the  presence  of  the 
commanding  general.  He  then  boldly  said : 
"  I  am  Weatherford,  the  chief  who  commanded 
at  Fort  Mimms.  I  desire  peace  for  my  people, 
and  have  come  to  ask  it."  Jackson  was  sur- 
prised that  he  should  venture  to  appear  in 
his  presence,  and  told  him,  for  his  inhuman 
conduct  at  Fort  Mimms,  he  well  deserved  to 
die ;  that  he  had  ordered  him  to  be  brought 
to  the  camp,  bound,  and  had  he  been  so 
bound,  he  would  have  been  treated  as  he 
deserved.     To  this  Weatherford  replied : 

"  I  am  in  your  power — do  with  me  as  you 
30 


350  STOEIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

please.  I  am  a  soldier.  I  have  done  the 
white  people  all  the  harm  I  could.  I  have 
fought  them  and  fought  them  bravely.  If  T 
had  an  army,  I  would  yet  fight ;  I  would  con- 
tend to  the  last.  But  I  have  none.  My 
people  are  all  gone.  I  can  only  weep  over 
the  misfortunes  of  my  nation." 

General  Jackson  was  pleased  with  his  bold- 
ness, and  told  him  that,  though  he  was  in 
his  power,  yet  he  would  take  no  advantage ; 
that  he  ipight  yet  join  the  war  party,  and 
contend  against  the  Americans,  if  he  chose, 
but  to  depend  upon  no  quarter  if  taken  after- 
ward ;  and  that  unconditional  submission 
was  his  and  his  people's  only  safety.  Wea- 
therford  rejoined  in  a  tone  as  dignified  as  it 
was  indignant, — "You  can  safely  address  me 
in  such  terms  now.  There  was  a  time  when 
I  could  have  answered  you — there  was  a  time 
when  I  had  a  choice — I  have  none  now.  I 
have  not  even  a  hope.  I  could  once  animate 
my  warriors  to  battle — but  I  cannot  animate 
the  dead.  My  warriors  can  no  longer  hear 
my   voice.     Their  bones   are   at   Tallahega, 


THE  MASSACRE  OF  FORT  MIMMS. 


WEATHERFORD.  353 

Tallushatcliee,  Emuckfaw,  and  Tohopeka.  I 
have  not  surrendered  myself  without  thought. 
While  there  was'a  single  chance  of  success,  I 
never  left  my  post,  nor  supplicated  peace.  But 
my  people  are  gone,  and  I  now  ask  it  for  my 
nation,  not  for  myself.  I  look  back  wdth  deep 
sorrow,  and  wish  to  avert  still  greater  cala- 
mities. If  I  had  been  left  to  contend  with  the 
Georgia  army,  I  would  have  raised  my  corn 
on  one  bank  of  the  river,  and  fought  them  on 
the  other.  But  your  people  have  destroyed 
my  nation.  Tou  are  a  brave  man.  I  rely 
upon  your  generosity.  You  will  exact  no 
terms  of  a  conquered  people,  but  such  as  they 
should  accede  to.  Whatever  they  may  be, 
it  would  now  be  madness  and  folly  to  oppose 
them.  If  they  are  opposed,  you  shall  find 
me  amongst  the  sternest  enforcers  of  obedi- 
ence. Those  who  would  still  hold  out,  can 
be  influenced  only  by  a  mean  spirit  of  revenge. 
To  this  they  must  not,  and  shall  not  sacrifice 
the  last  remnant  of  their  country.  Tou  have 
told  our  nation  where  we  might  go  and  be 

30* 


354 


STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


safe.     This  is  good  talk,  and  they  ought  to 
listen  to  it.     They  shall  listen  to  it." 

The  treaty  concluded  between  the  Creeks 
and  the  whites  was  faithfully  observed  by  the 
former,  and  Weatherford's  conduct  proved, 
that  he  could  be  a  warm  friend  if  conciliated, 
as  ^^ell  as  a  formidable  and  determined  foe 
in  war.  Passionately  fond  of  wealth,  he  ap- 
propriated to  himself  a  fine  tract  of  land,  im- 
proved and  settled  it.  To  this  he  retired  oc- 
casionally, and  relaxed  from  the  cares  of  his 
government,  indulging  in  pleasures,  censur- 
able and  often  disgusting.  The  character  of 
this  chief  reminds  us  of  some  of  the  old  Ko- 
man  heroes  and  politicians.  The  same  genius, 
activity,  ambition,  and  love  of  vicious  plea- 
sures belonged  to  those  Caesars  and  Antonys 
who  have  received  more  historical  encomiums 
than  is  rightfully  their  due. 


PAUGUS  AND  Ills  FAMILY. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  SACO  POND. 


0  event  is  oftener  men- 
tioned in  New  England 
story  than  the  memor- 
able fight  between  the 
English  and  Indians,  at 
Saco  Pond.  The  cruel 
and  barbarous  murders 
almost  daily  committed  upon  the  inhabitants 

(357) 


358  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

of  the  frontier  settlements,  caused  tlie  general 
court  of  Massachusetts  to  offer  a  bounty  of 
£100  for  every  Indian's  scalp.  This  reward 
induced  Captain  John  Lovewell  to  raise  a 
volunteer  company,  and  make  excursions  into 
the  Indian  country  for  scalps.  He  was  very 
successful  and  returned  to  Boston  with  scalps 
for  which  he  received  £1000. 

The  Indians,  however  continued  their  de- 
predations, and  the  Pequawkets,  under  the 
terrible  chief,  Paugus,  especially  distinguished 
themselves  for  their  frequent  predatory  incur- 
sions. About  the  middle  of  April,  1725, 
Captain  Lovewell,  with  forty-six  men,  marched 
on  an  expedition  against  Paugus.  The  party 
arrived  near  the  place  where  they  expected 
to  find  the  Indians,  on  the  7th  of  May ;  and 
and  early  the  next  morning,  while  at  prayers, 
heard  a  gun,  supposed  to  be  fired  by  one  of 
the  Indians,  and  immediately  prepared  for 
the  encounter.  Divesting  themselves  of  their 
packs,  they  marched  forward,  but  in  an  op- 
posite direction  from  where  the  Indians  were 
posted. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  SACO  POND.  359 

This  mistake  gave  Paiigus  an  advantage. 
He  followed  the  track  of  the  English,  fell  in 
with  their  packs,  and  learned  their  numbers. 
Encouraged  by  superiority,  he  having  eighty 
men  with  him,  he  pursued  the  English,  and 
courted  a  contest.  Lovewell,  after  marching 
a  considerable  distance,  during  which  time 
he  took  one  scalp,  and  was  mortally  wounded 
by  the  last  fire  of  the  Indian  who  had  been 
scalped,  ordered  his  men  to  return  for  their 
packs.  The  wary  Paugus  expected  this,  and 
lay  in  ambush  to  cut  them  off.  When  the 
English  were  completely  encircled,  the  In- 
dians rose  from  the  coverts,  and  advanced  to- 
wards them  with  arms  presented.  They  ex- 
pected the  English  to  surrender  to  their  supe- 
rior force,  and  accordingly  threw"  away  their 
first  fire.  But  Lovewell,  though  wounded, 
led  on  his  men  to  the  attack.  The  Indians 
were  driven  back  several  rods,  and  many 
killed  and  wounded.  But  they  soon  returned 
and  attacked  their  white  foes  vigorously ; 
killed  Lovewell  and  eight  men,  and  wounded 
three  others,     l^he  English  then  retreated  to 


360  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

the  shore  of  Saco  Pond,  so  as  to  prevent  their 
being  surrounded.  The  banks  afforded  a  kind 
of  breastwork,  behind  which  they  maintained 
the  contest  until  night,  when  the  Indians 
drew  off  and  they  saw  no  more  of  them.  Only 
nine  of  the  English  escaped  unhurt,  though 
several  that  were  wounded  lived  to  return  to 
Dunstable. 

Paugus  was  killed  in  the  course  of  the 
fight  by  one  John  Chamberlain,  a  noted  hunter. 
It  is  said  that  they  both  came  to  the  shore 
of  the  pond  to  quench  their  thirst,  when  the 
encounter  took  place,  in  which  Paugus  was 
shot  through  the  heart. 

A  son  of  the  chief,  after  peace  was  restored, 
came  to  Dunstable,  to  revenge  his  father's 
death,  by  killing  Chamberlain ;  but  not  going 
directly  to  him  his  design  was  suspected  by 
some  one,  and  communicated  to  the  intended 
victim,  who  kept  himself  upon  his  guard,  and 
had  a  hole  cut  through  the  door  of  his  house. 
Through  this  hole,  Chamberlain  one  morning 
discovered  an  Indian,  behind  a  pile  of  wood, 
with  his  gun  pointed  toward  the  door.    Mak- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  SACO  POND.  361 

ing  use  of  his  advantage,  he  fired  upon  and 
killed  the  son  of  Paugus. 

In  the  ballad,  in  which  the  events  of  Love- 
welFs  fight  are  commemorated,  we  find  some 
singular  details  of  the  escape  of  the  wounded 
white  men.  Solomon  Keyes,  having  received 
three  wounds,  said  he  would  hide  himself  and 
die  secretly,  so  that  the  Indians  could  not  get 
his  scalp!  As  he  crawled  upon  the  shore  of  the 
pond,  a  short  distance  from  the  battle-ground, 
he  found  a  canoe,  into  which  he  rolled  him- 
self, and  was  drifted  away  by  the  wind.  To 
his  astonishment,  he  was  cast  ashore  near 
Fort  Ossippee,  to  which  he  crawled,  and  there 
found  several  of  his  companions,  with  whom 
he  returned  home.  The  most  of  those  who 
escaped  did  not  leave  the  battle-ground  till 
near  midnight.  When  they  arrived  at  the 
fort,  they  expected  to  find  refreshment,  and 
the  few  men  they  had  left  in  reserve.  But  a 
deserter  had  so  frightened  the  men  left  in 
the  fort,  that  they  fled  in  dismay  towards 
Dunstable. 

'     Fifty  New  Hampshire  volunteers  afterwards 

31 


362  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

marched  to  the  scene  of  action,  and  buried 
the  dead.  They  found  but  three  Indians,  one 
of  whom  was  Paugus.  The  remainder  were 
supposed  to  have  been  taken  away  when  they 
retreated.  The  pond,  on  the  banks  of  which 
the  battle  was  fought,  has  ever  since  received 
the  name  of  Love  well's  Pond.  Some  rural 
Homer,  the  author  of  the  ballad  to  which  we 
have  alluded,  thus  pathetically  concludes  his 
narrative : 

Ah,  many  a  wife  shall  rend  her  hair, 
And  many  a  child  cry,  "  Woe  is  me," 
When  messengers  the  news  shall  bear, 
Of  Lovewell's  dear-bought  victory. 

With  footsteps  slow  shall  travellers  go, 
Where  Lovewell's  pond  shines  clear  and  bright 
And  mark  the  place  where  those  are  laid, 
Who  fell  in  Lovewell's  bloody  fight. 

Old  men  shall  shake  their  heads,  and  say, 
Sad  was  the  hour  and  terrible, 
When  Lovewell,  brave,  'gainst  Paugus  went, 
With  fifty  men  from  Dunstable. 


WINGIJSTA. 

INGINA  was  the  first  chief 
known  to  the  English  settlers 
of  Virginia.  The  voyagers, 
Amidas  and  Barlow,  sent  out 
by  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh,  in  the 
summer  of  1584,  landed  upon  the  island  of 
"Wokoken,   adjacent  to  Virginia.     They  saw 

31*  (365) 


366  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

several  of  the  natives,  and  made  them  presents. 
Wingina  was  at  this  time  confined  in  his 
cabin,  from  wounds  received  in  battle,  and 
did  not  see  the  English.  He  had  not  much 
faith  in  their  good  intentions,  and  would  not 
trust  them  far. 

Soon  after  the  return  of  Amid  as  and  Barlow 
to  England,  Sir  Eichard  Grenville  intruded 
upon  the  territories  of  Wingina.  It  was  he 
who  committed  the  first  outrage  upon  the 
natives,  which  excited  their  constant  and 
deadly  hostility.  He  made  one  short  excur- 
sion into  the  country,  during  which,  to  re- 
venge the  loss  of  a  silver  cup,  which  had  been 
stolen  by  an  Indian,  he  burned  a  town.. 
Grenville  left  one  hundred  and  eight  men  to 
found  a  settlement  on  the  island  of  Roanoke, 
and  appointed  Ralph  Lane,  governor.  The 
English  made  several  excursions  into  the 
country,  in  hopes  of  discovering  mines  of  pre- 
cious metal,  of  which  the  Indians,  to  delude 
them,  spoke,  and  encouraged  them  to  seek. 

Wingina  bore  the  insults  and  provocations 
of  the  intruders,  until  the  death  of  the  old 


WINGINA.  367 

chief,  Ensenore,  his  father.  Under  pretence 
of  honoring  his  funeral,  he  assembled  eighteen 
hundred  of  his  warriors,  with  the  intent,  as 
the  English  say,  of  destroying  them.  The 
English  were  informed  of  the  deadly  design, 
by  Skiko,  the  son  of  the  chief  Menatonon ; 
and  Governor  Lane  resolved  to  anticipate  it. 
Upon  a  given  signal,  his  men  attacked  the 
natives  on  the  island  where  Wingina  lived, 
having  secured  the  canoes  to  prevent  their 
escape.  But  five  or  six  of  the  Indians  were 
killed,  and  the  rest  escaped  to  the  woods, 
where  Lane  knew  it  would  be  dangerous  to 
follow  them. 

This  attack  was  the  signal  for  the  com- 
mencement of  hostilities.  The  English  were 
few  in  number,  but  their  skill  and  bravery  in 
war  was  well  known  to  the  red  men,  and  they 
dreaded  them,  as  if  they  had  been  superior 
in  number.  Lane  aimed  at  securing  the  per- 
son of  Wingina,  and  thus  striking  terror  into 
his  people ;  and  accordingly  watched  every 
opportunity  to  gain  information  of  his  where- 
abouts.    At  length  he  ascertained  that  the 


368  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

chief  had  not  been  able  to  escape  from  the 
island,  and  that  with  a  number  of  his  chiefs 
and  warriors,  he  was  lurking  in  the  forests  of 
the  island  which  was  his  capital.  The  En- 
glish captain  taking  with  him  about  one  half 
of  his  men,  placed  them  in  ambush  near  the 
spot  which  Wingina  frequented  daily.  It  was 
the  burial  place  of  his  father,  and  the  chief, 
with  a  few  companions,  came  there  to  give 
himself  to  weeping  and  mournful  reflection. 

The  English  had  little  consideration  for  the 
place  or  the  purpose  of  the  chief's  visit. 
When  they  saw  he  was  fairly  within  their 
power,  they  rushed  from  their  concealment, 
and  before  the  chief  and  his  warriors  could 
recover  from  their  surprise  and  attempt  to 
escape,  shot  them  down.  Lane  then  returned 
to  the  remainder  of  his  men.  The  bodies  of 
Wingina  and  his  braves  were  found  by  his 
people,  attracted  to  the  spot  by  the  report  of 
the  fire-arms ;  and  for  a  time,  it  seemed  as 
if  the  desire  of  revenge  w^ould  induce  them  to 
follow  the  English  and  attack  them.  But  the 
wiser  portion  of  them,  knowing  the  advantage 


WINGINA.  369 

which  the  English  possessed  in  the  use  of 
fire-arms,  restrained  them.  But  Lane  was 
not  suffered  to  remain  quiet  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  his  triumph.  Conspiracies  were  de- 
tected in  various  quarters,  and  finally,  the 
Indians  compelled  the  whole  English  party 
to  return  to  Europe.  We  cannot  wonder  at 
the  rooted  enmity  to  the  whites  which  the 
Indians  afterwards  displayed.  'Not  content 
with  invading  and  taking  possession  of  the 
country,  the  early  visitors  from  England 
burned  the  towns  and  murdered  the  natives 
upon  the  slightest  provocation.  Early  im- 
pressions are  most  lasting,  and  what  could 
the  English  expect  after  giving  the  red  men 
such  an  idea  of  their  character  ? 


A  SCENE  ON  THE  SCHUYLKILL. 


HAROLD  DEAN;  OR,  THE  INDIAN'S 
REYENGE. 

HE  Indian  ever  regards 
the  constant  pursuit  of 
revenge  for  an  injury 
an  evidence  of  a  high 
character.  Instances 
are  many,  in  which 
years  have  intervened 
between  a  revengeful 
resolve,  and  the  favor- 
able opportunity,  yet  no  sign  of  relenting 
would  be  found  in  the  injured  one.     Such  a 


« 


HAROLD  DEAN.  371 

disposition  is  natural  to  those  who  are  taught 
to  look  on  war  as  the  chief  business  of  life, 
and  mercy  to  foes  as  despicable  weakness. 
The  following  narrative  will  illustrate  this 
feature  of  the  Indian  character. 

About  the  period  of  the  first  settlement  of 
the  disciples  of  George  Fox,  on  the  banks  of 
the  Delaware,  a  party  of  young  men,  of  re- 
spectable families,  filled  with  the  hopes  ex- 
cited by  the  glowing  accounts  of  the  new 
country,  and  having  a  love  of  adventure  which 
could  not  be  gratified  in  their  thickly  settled 
and  strictly  governed  native  land,  resolved  to 
come  to  America ;  and  putting  their  resolve 
in  execution*  they  arrived  on  the  banks  of 
the  Delaware.  The  reasons  for  their  preferring 
to  visit  Penn's  settlement  were  very  pardon- 
able. Although  they  loved  adventure,  they 
preferred  to  seek  it  where  the  red  men  were 
least  disposed  to  use  the  hatchet  and  scalp- 
ing knife,  and  where  there  was  the  clearest 
prospect  of  making  a  good  settlement  if  they 
felt  so  disposed. 

The  party  consisted  of  six  young  gentlemen 


372  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

of  the  average  age  of  twenty-two  years.  Their 
names  were  Harold  Dean,  George  Sanford, 
William  Murdstone,  James  Ballybarn,  Kichard 
Gwynne,  and  Morton  Williams.  The  first  was 
a  daring,  quick,  and  restless  spirit,  and  by 
general  consent  the  leader  of  the  party.  He 
was  a  winning  companion,  but  selfish,  and 
seemed  to  have  cut  loose  from  all  moral  prin- 
cij)le.  The  character  of  the  others  contained 
no  extraordinary  features.  They  were  all 
possessed  of  good  intentions,  and  a  consider- 
able degree  of  intelligence ;  but  being  des- 
titute of  that  activity  and  force  of  will  which 
belonged  to  the  character  of  Harold  Dean. 

The  young  men  arrived  in  Penn's  settle- 
ment, as  we  have  said,  and  being  well  pro- 
vided wdth  all  the  necessaries  of  a  hunter's 
life,  resolved  to  build  some  cabins  on  the 
the  banks  of  the  beautiful  Schuylkill.  But 
first,  Harold  Dean  succeeded  in  making  the 
acquaintance  of  the  neighboring  Indians. 
These  red  men  belonged  to  the  great  tribe, 
which  the  English  named  the  Delawares. 
They,  however,  called  themselves  the  Leni 


HAROLD  DEAN.  373 

Lenape.  They  were  generally  well  disposed 
towards  the  whites,  on  account  of  the  honor- 
able and  peaceful  conduct  of  the  founder  of 
the  settlement,  and  received  the  young  En- 
glishmen with  every  testimonial  of  friendship 
and  respect.  The  chiefs  assured  the  young 
men  that  they  might  build  their  cabins  and 
hunt  without  the  fear  of  being  disturbed  by 
the  red  men. 

Accordingly,  Dean  selected  a  high  bank, 
rocky  and  castellated  at  the  water's  side,  and 
bare  of  trees  for  a  considerable  distance  in- 
land, for  the  site  of  two  cabins.  The  labor 
of  building  Jog  cabins  was  novel  to  the  young 
men.'  Yet,  though  difficult,  its  novelty  and 
romantic  character  made  it  pleasing.  James 
Ballybarn  was.  a  regularly  taught  carpenter 
and  joiner,  and  his  knowledge  was  brought 
into  use.  Dean  planned  the  cabins  in  the 
simplest  but  most  comfortable  manner, 
and  all  hands  worked  hard  at  cutting 
down  trees  and  hewing  them  into  the  proper 
size  and  form.  While  the  cabins  were  pre- 
paring, the  young  pioneers  slept  in  a  rude 

32 


374:  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

hut  constructed  of  their  chests  and  tools,  and 
covered  with  the  boughs  of  small  trees. 

The  cabins  were  finished,  much  to  the  gra- 
tification of  the  workmen.  They  stood  within 
about  five  yards  of  each  other;  and  presented 
quite  a  fine  appearance,  amid  the  solitude  of 
the  wilderness.  Each  one  was  occupied  by 
three  young  men.  By  the  aid  of  a  friendly 
Delaware,  two  canoes  were  also  constructed 
in  the  usual  Indian  style  by  hollowing  out 
the  trunks  of  large  trees.  And  now  the  real 
hardships  of  the  hunter's  life  were  to  be  en- 
dured ;  and  though  our  young  pioneers  suc- 
ceeded .very  well  for  beginners^  supplying 
themselves  with  food,  and  skins  for  sale,  yet 
the  labor  was  more  difficult  than  they  had 
expected.  One  or  two  began  to  compare 
their  situation  with  what  it  had  been  in  En- 
gland, and  the  result  of  the  comparison  was 
by  no  means  favorable  to  their  remaining  in 
the  wilderness.  But  Harold  Dean  had  fallen 
in  love  with  the  hunter's  life.  It  offered 
plenty  of  exciting  occupation  to  his  quick  and 
daring  spirit ;  and  he  forgot  friends  and  re- 


HAROLD  DEAN.  375 

lations  at  home.  His  influence  over  his  com- 
panions was  undisputed.  He  had  a  love  of 
being  first  in  every  thing,  and  never  spared 
labor  to  make  himself  such.  His  companions 
submitted  to  his  lead,  and  after  a  little  argu- 
ment, were  persuaded  that  there  was  no  life 
like  a  hunter's. 

The  party  had  become  very  intimate  with 
the  Indians,  and  Harold  Dean  especially  was 
a  general  favorite  among  them.  He  had  cul- 
tivated the  friendship  of  a  young  Indian 
hunter,  named  Pakanke.  Pakanke  was  brave, 
adventurous,  and  skilled  in  all  the  mysteries 
of  woodcraft.  He  instructed  Harold  Dean  in 
that  art,  which  was  to  him  so  necessary,  and 
joined  the  young  Englishmen  in  many  a 
hunting  excursion. 

But  other  attractions  induced  Harold  to 
seek  the  company  of  Pakanke,  and  frequently 
to  spend  a  day  at  his  wigwam.  The  Indian 
hunter  had  a  sister,  who  was  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  young  women  of  her  tribe,  and  de- 
cidedly the  most  intelligent.  Her  father  had 
been  killed  in  battle,  and  her  brother  was 


376  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


necessarily  her  guardian.  Many  of  the  young 
Delawares,  foremost  in  war  and  the  chase, 
coveted  the  beautiful  Narramattah,  but  she 
had  refused  to  share  the  wigwam  of  the 
bravest.  Harold  Dean  met  her  at  the  cabin 
of  her  brother,  and  was  charmed  with  her  ap- 
pearance and  manners.  His  fine  person  and 
winning  attentions  also  captivated  the  guile- 
less maid.  Pakanke  regarded  the  growing 
attachment  of  his  English  friend  and  sister 
with  undisguised  pleasure,  and  did  all  in  his 
power  to  increase  it. 

Harold's  friends  were  now  frequently  de- 
prived of  his  company,  yet  as  h|^  told  them 
of  the  beauties  of  the  sister  of  Pakanke,  they 
guessed  the  reason  and  readily  excused  him. 
But  was  it  a  fact  that  Harold  loved  Narra- 
mattah?  That  she  loved  him  there  could 
not  be  a  doubt ;  she  was  never  happier  than 
when  in  his  presence,  and  she  told  him  that 
he  had  became  her  Manito,  or  idol.  Harold 
admired  her — that  he  confessed  to  himself. 
But  he  laughed  to  scorn  the  assertions  of  his 
friends  that  he  really  loved  an  Indian  girl 


HAROLD  DEAN.  377 

At  length  the  precise  state  of  his  feelings  was 
divulged.  Kichard  Gwynne  rallied  him  one 
evening,  after  the  return  from  the  day's  hunt- 
ing, upon  being  captivated  by  a  dusky  forest 
beauty. 

"Pshaw!"  replied  Harold,  with  a  con- 
temptuous expression  of  features,  "  Gwynne, 
have  you  no  idea  of  whiling  away  the  time  with 
women,  apart  from  falling  in  love  with  them  ? 
You  are  completely  fresh.  I  love  an  ignorant 
savage !  I  have  known  too  many  of  the  in- 
telligent and  enchanting  girls  of  merry  old 
England,  to  be  so  foolish.  Til  beguile  the 
time  with  this  Narramattah,  but  could  not 
for  a  moment  think  of  loving  her,  or  of  going 
through  the  Indian  sanction  of  a  marriage 
ceremony. 

So  saying,  Harold  turned  away  from 
Gwynne,  and  entered  the  cabin.  But  what 
he  had  said  had  struck  one  ear  and  touched 
one  heart  for  which  it  was  not  intended.  Pa- 
kanke  had  parted  from  Harold  a  moment  be- 
fore Gwynne  had  spoken  to  him,  and  hearing 
his  sister's  name  mentioned,  had  checked  his 

32* 


378  STORIES-  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

pace  to  bear  what  was  said  of  her.  Eaves- 
dropping is  a  vice  practised  by  the  untutored 
children  of  the  forest  as  well  as  by  civilized 
men,  and  it  is  sometimes  pardonable.  Pa- 
kanke  understood  sufficient  English  to  com- 
prehend that  Harold  Dean  was  confessing  | 
,that  he  was  trifling  with  Narramattah's  love, 
and  never  intended  to  marry  her.  In  an  in- 
stant, all  his  esteem  and  friendship  for  the 
young  Englishman  had  turned  to  the  gall  of 
hatred  and  revenge.  He  at  first  thought  of 
seeking  him  at  once,  and  demanding  redress 
for  the  insult  offered  to  his  family  and  race. 
But  reining  his  passion,  he  resolved  to  wait 
a  more  promising  opportunity. 

The  next  day,  Harold  Dean  and  Pakanke 
went  upon  the  hunt  together,  and  the  Indian 
took  the  earliest  occasion,  when  they  were 
alone,  to  explain  to  the  Englishman  the  ex- 
tent of  his  sister's  aifection  for  him,  and  to 
demand  that  he  should  marry  her.  Harold 
endeavored  to  soothe  the  indignant  feelings 
of  the  red  man,  and  told  him  that  he  could 
love  h\p.  sister,  but  could  not  marry  her,  as 


HAROLD  DEAN.  379 

ne  fiad  a  wife  already  in  England.  Pakanke 
4;old  him  that  he  was  deceitful;  that  he  was 
a  snake,  whose  bright  colors  lured  simple 
maidens  near  that  he  might  sting  them ;  that 
he  had  seemed  a  friend,  but  to  be  a  more 
deadly  foe ;  and  that  he  should  marry  Narra- 
mattah,  or  feel  that  the  red  man  can  revenge 
an  insult  as  he  can  repay  a  kindness.  He 
concluded  in  these  forcible  words:  "Take  to 
your  wigwam,  pale  face,  the  maiden  you  have 
loved ;  keep  and  take  care  of  the  wild  flower 
which  you  have  sought  and  trained  to  await 
your  coming,  or  the  big  wind  shall  hurl  you 
to  the  earth !" 

Harold  evaded  the  demand,  and  finally  in- 
duced the  young  Indian  to  wait  until  the 
next  day,  when  they  should  see  Narramattah 
together,  and  then  he  would  decide.  But  the 
deceitful  Englishman  did  not  intend  to  see 
the  maiden,  he  had  wronged,  again.  It  was 
a  mere  ruse  to  escape  the  Indian's  vengeance 
for  a  time.  The  next  day,  when  Pakanke 
came  for  Harold  he  was  not  to  be  found  at 
the  cabin;  and  Pakanka  rAturned  to  ISTarrn- 


360  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

mattah,  to  tell  her  of  her  wrongs,  and*  his 
burning  resolve  to  revenge  them.  The  poor, 
trusting  forest  maiden  seemed  as  if  struck 
speechless  by  the  information  that  Harold 
had  fled,  after  declaring  that  he  never  in- 
tended to  take  her  to  his  wigwam.  The  wild 
flower  was  crushed  by  the  ruthless  blast; 
and  her  mind,  unable  to  withstand  the  shock, 
became  distracted.  When  Pakanke  arose  in 
the  morning,  his  sister  was  gone.  He  searched 
eagerly  every  where  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
village  for  her,  but  in  vain.  At  length  news 
was  brought  him  that  Narramattah's  mangled 
body  had  been  found  at  the  foot  of  a  high 
precipice,  near  the  Wissahicon  creek.  He 
hurried  to  the  spot,  and  found  the  informa- 
tion true.  The  distracted  girl  had  either 
thrown  herself  from  the  precipice,  or  acci- 
dentally fallen  from  it  in  her  wanderings. 
Pakanke  paused  to  drop  the  few  tears  of  grief 
forced  from  his  eyes;  and  then,  over  his 
sister's  body,  bade  the  Great  Spirit  mark  his 
vow,  never  to  rest  until  the  murderer  of  his 
sister  had  met  the  fate  he  deserved.     The 


HAROLD  DEAN.  381 

hody^  of  JSTarramattah  was  given  to  her  friends 
to  be  placed  in  the  cold  grave  near  her  father ; 
and  many  were  the  tears  shed  for  her  un- 
happy fate,  by  the  Delaware  women. 

Pakanke,  alone,  again  sought  the  cabins 
of  the  Englishmen,  and  this  time,  he  found 
the  object  of  his  search.  Harold  Dean,  cal- 
culating the  exact  time  of  Pakanke's  visit  on 
the  day  before,  had  gone  with  his  friends  on 
a  hunting  expedition  far  into  the  country, 
and  had  returned  with  them  to  the  cabins 
just  before  Pakanke  arrived.  He  calculated 
that  the  Indian  would  be  satisfied  with  any 
trifling  excuse  invented  for  the  occasion,  and 
did  not  dream  that  the  affair  had  reached  a 
tragic  crisis.  Pakanke's  appearance  in  the 
cabin  surprised  him.  The  Indian  was  unu- 
sually calm  and  collected,  and  betrayed  no 
sign  of  any  but  the  most  peaceable  intentions. 
He  said  he  came  for  Harold  to  fulfil  his  pro- 
mise to  accompany  him  to  the  wigwam ;  and 
finding  there  could  be  no  further  evasion, 
Harold  consented  to  accompany  him. 

The  two  hunters  left  the  cabins  and  pro- 


382  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

ceeded  througli  the  woods,  as  Harold  thought, 
towards  the  Delaware  village,  but  as  Pakanke 
knew,  in  a  different  direction.  They  spoke 
occasionally,  concerning  hunting  and  the 
game  of  the  season;  but  the  Indian  was 
afraid  to  trust  himself  to  many  words,  and 
Harold  was  meditating  some  plan  of  escape 
from  the  proposed  marriage.  At  length  they 
approached  what  seemed  to  be  a  deep  ravine, 
and  Harold's  eye  wandered  around  for  the 
best  place  for  crossing.  They  were  nearing 
the  high,  overhanging  precipice,  and  Pakanke 
knew  it.  "  This  is  the  best  crossing,"  said 
he  to  Harold,  as  they  approached  the  tree- 
covered  edge  of  the  rock  from  which  Narra- 
mattah  had  thrown  herself,  or  fallen.  "This 
is  rather  a  disagreeable  path,  I  think,"  said 
Harold,  as  he  looked  over  to  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  creek.  "  It  leads  to  thy  grave !" 
shrieked  Pakanke,  as,  with  an  effort,  made 
giant  strong  by  passion,  he  snatched  Harold's 
rifle,  stabbed  him  in  the  back,  and  hurled 
him  from  the  rock.  Then  he  leaned  over  its 
edge  to  look  down.     The  rock  w^as  about  one 


HAROLD  DEAN.  383 

hundred  feet  high,  and  its  top  projected  far 
beyond  its  base.  Harold  shrieked  as  he  was 
thrown  from  the  rock,  but  all  was  soon  over. 
Pakanke  saw,  as  he  leaned  over  the  edge, 
that  his  victim  had  been  literally  dashed  to 
pieces;  and  a  smile  of  gratified  revenge  ap- 
peared upon  his  lips  as  he  turned  away  to 
descend  to  the  spot,  to  secure  the  scalp.  Af- 
ter this  customary  trophy  from  a  conquered 
foe  had  been  obtained,  Pakanke  returned  to 
the  Delaware  village,  and  gladdened  the  ears 
of  the  chiefs  and  warriors  with  the  circum- 
stances of  his  exploit.  He  then  sent  infor- 
mation of  it  to  Harold's  friends,  accompanied 
with  an  assurance  that  if  they  were  snakes 
they  would  be  served  in  the  sauie  way,  but  if 
friends,  they  would  not  be  disturbed. 

The  terrible  death  of  Harold  appalled  the 
young  Englishmen,  and  they  were  so  mis- 
trustful of  the  good  intentions  of  the  red  men, 
that  they  unanimously  resolved  to  quit  the 
vicinity  and  return  to  the  settlenrient  at  once. 
Accordingly,  the  most  valuable  of  their  skins 
and  all  their  necessary  articles  of  clothing, 


384 


STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


and  their  fire-arms,  were  packed  up,  the  ca- 
bins set  on  fire,  and  they  set  out  for  the  set- 
tlement. Two  of  them  remained  in  Philadel- 
phia, the  others  returned  to  England,  and 
conveyed  the  news  of  the  death  of  Harold 
Dean  to  his  parents.  Tljey  were  not  discon- 
solate, although  they  wept  for  him.  He  had 
always  been  a  wild  spirit  and  a  bad  son,  and 
his  treachery  to  poor  Narramattah  was  but 
one  additional  item  in  a  catalogue  of  such 
deeds,  which  had  made  his  fame  ignoble  in 
England. 


"-^ 


CHOCTAW  WARRIORS  AND  WOMAN. 


BIENVILLE'S  EXPEDITION  AGAINST 
THE  CHICK  AS  AWS. 

FTEE  the  destruction  of  the  power 
of  the  Natchez  Indians,  by  the 
French,  in  1731,  the  remnant  of 
that  nation  took  refuge  among  the 
powerful  and  ferocious  tribe  of  Chickasaw s, 
who  were  the  determined  and  uncompromis- 
ing enemies  of  the  colonists  of  Louisiana.  The 
united  nations  could  bring  a  large  and  effi- 

(387) 


388  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

cierit  force  into  the  field  ;  and  besides,  they 
had  five  strong'  palisaded  forts,  and  many 
fortified  villages.  Bienville,  governor  of 
Louisiana,  could  only  command  about  three 
hundred  Frenchmen  at  the  commencement  of 
the  war ;  but  the  Choctaws  were  his  allies, 
and  although  not  the  best  and  bravest  of 
warriors,  their  aid  was  valuable.  A  desultory 
warfare  was  carried  on  until  early  in  1736, 
when  the  French  government  sent  additional 
troops  to  Bienville,  and  ordered  him  to  un- 
dertake an  expedition  against  the  Chickasaws. 
In  obedience  to  these  instructions,  Bien- 
ville had  sent  word  to  the  younger  D'Arta- 
guette,  the  commander  of  the  Illinois  district, 
to  collect  all  the  French  and  Indian  forces  he 
could  control,  and  to  meet  him  on  the  31st  of 
March,  1736,  at  the  Chickasaw  villages.  In 
the  month  of  January  of  that  year,  Bienville 
drew  from  Natchez,  Natchitoches,  and  the 
Balize  -all  the  officers  and  soldiers  he  could 
muster,  without  weakening  too  much  the  gar- 
risons stationed'at  those  places.  He  formed 
a  company  of  volunteers,  composed  of  traders 


Bienville's  expedition.  389 

and  transient  persons  then  in  New  Orleans, 
and  another  company  of  unmarried  men  be- 
longing to  the  city,  and  which  was  called  the 
"  company  of  bachelors."  A  depot  of  ammu- 
nition, provisions,  and  all  that  was  necessary 
for  the  intended  campaign  was  established 
on  the  Tombigbee,  at  the  distance  of  two 
hundred  and  seventy  miles  from  Mobile,  where 
the  several  detachments  of  the  army  were 
sent,  through  the  Lakes,  as  fast  as  convey- 
ances could  be  procured.  Several  large  vessels 
containing  provisions  and  utensils  of  every 
sort  were  despatched  down  the  Mississippi  to 
Mobile,  and  on  the  4:th  of  March,  Bienville 
departed  from  New  Orleans,  leaving  behind 
him  only  four  companies  of  regulars  under 
Noyan,  which  were  to  follow  him  as  soon  as 
they  could  be  transported.  The  boats  having 
to  struggle  against  adverse  winds,  the  whole 
of  the  French  forces  did  not  reach  Mobile  be- 
fore the  22d,  and  it  was  only  on  the  28th, 
that  the  last  of  the  vessels  carrying  provisions 
entered  the  harbor,  when  it  was  discovered 
that  her  cargo  had  been  much  damaged  by 

33* 


390  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIiLNS. 

the  sea.  On  the  1st  of  April,  the  expedition 
left  Mobile,  and  it  was  only  on  the  23d  that 
the  army  reached  the  Tombigbee  depot,  after 
having  had  to  contend  against  currents, 
freshets,  storms,  and  constant  rains. 

While  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  Choc- 
taws,  Bienville  reviewed  his  troops,  and  found 
them  to  consist  of  five  hundred  and  forty-four 
white  men,  excluding  the  officers,  forty-five 
negroes,  and  a  body  of  Indians.  At  length 
six  hundred  Choctaw  warriors  arrived,  and 
the  army  resumed  its  march.  On  the  22d 
of  May,  it  encamped  about  twenty-seven  miles 
from  the  Chickasaw  villages.  On  the  23d, 
Bienville  ordered  fortifications  to  be  con- 
structed for  the  protection  of  his  boats,  and 
placed  twenty  men  under  Captain  Yanderck 
in  them.  The  next  day,  the  army  with  pro- 
visions for  twelve  days,  marched  six  miles 
further,  and  encamped  on  account  of  a  tem- 
pest. On  the  25th,  within  the  space  of  twelve 
miles,  the  army  had  to  cross  three  deep  ra- 
vines running  through  a  thick  cane-brake, 
and  had  to  wade  through  water  rising  up  to 


Bienville's  expedition.  391 

the  waist.  It  then  emerged  on  a  beautiful 
open  prairie,  on  the  edge  of  which  they  en- 
camped, at  the  distance  of  six  miles  from  the 
Chickasaw  villages. 

The  intention  of  Bienville  was  to  turn 
round  those  villages  of  the  Chickasaws  to 
march  upon  the  village  of  the  Natchez,  which 
was  in  the  rear,  and  to  attack  first  those 
whom  he  considered  as  the  instigators  of  the 
Chickasaw  war.  But  the  Choctaws  insisted 
wdth  such  pertinacity  upon  attacking  the  vil- 
lages which  were  nearer,  and  which,  they 
said  contained  more  provisions  than  that  of 
the  Natchez,  and  they  represented  with  such 
warmth,  that,  in  the  needy  condition  in  which 
they  were,  it  was  absolutely  necessary  they 
should  take  possession  of  these  provisions, 
that  Bienville  yielded  to  their  importunities. 
The  prairie,  in  which  these  villages  were  situ- 
ated, covered  a  space  of  about  six  miles.  The 
villages  were  small,  and  built  in  the  shape  of 
a  triangle,  on  a  hillock  sloping  down  to  a 
brook  which  was  almost  dry ;  further  off  was 
the  main  body  of  the  Chickasaw  villages,  and 


392  STORIES  OF  THE  INI)IANS. 

the  smaller  ones  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  van- 
guard. The  Choctaws  having  informed  Bien- 
ville that  he  would  find  water  no  where  else, 
he  ordered  the  army  to  file  off  <jlose  to  the 
wood  which  enclosed  the  prairie,  in  order  to 
reach  another  hillock  that  was  in  sight. 
There  the  troops  halted  to  rest  and  take  nou- 
rishment.    It  was  past  twelve  o'clock. 

The  Indian  scouts  whom  Bienville  had  sent 
in  every  direction  to  look  for  tidings  of  D^Ar- 
taguette,  whom  he  had  expected  to  operate 
his  junction  with  him  on  this  spot,  had  come 
back  and  brought  no  information.  It  was 
evident,  therefore,  that  he  could  no  longer 
hope  for  the  co-operation  on  which  he  had 
relied,  and  that  he  had  to  trust  only  to  his 
own  resources.  It  was  impossible  to  wait ; 
and  immediate  action  was  insisted  upon  by 
the  Choctaws  and  the  French  ofi&cers,  who 
thought  that  the  three  small  villages,  which 
have  been  described,  and  which  were  the 
nearest  to  them,  were  not  capable  of  much 
resistance.  Bienville  yielded  to  the  solicita- 
tions of  his  allies  and  of  his  troops,  and  at 


Bienville's  expedition.  393 

two  in  the  afternoon,  ordered  his  nephew 
Noyan,  to  begin  the  attack,  and  to  put  him- 
self at  the  head  of  a  column  composed  of  a 
company  of  grenadiers,  of  detachments  of  fif- 
teen men  taken  from  each  one  of  the  eight 
companies  of  the  French  regulars,  of  sixty- 
five  men  of  the  Swiss  troops,  and  forty-five 
volunteers. 

The  French  had  approached  within  carbine 
shot  of  the  forts,  and  at  that  distance,  could 
plainly  distinguish  Englishmen,  who  ap- 
peared to  be  very  active  in  assisting  the 
Chickasaws  in  preparing  their  defence,  and 
who  had  hoisted  up  their  flag  on  one  of  the 
forts.  Bienville  recommended  that  they  should 
not  be  assailed,  if  they  thought  proper  to  re- 
tire, and  in  order  to  give  them  time,  should 
they  feel  so  disposed,  he  ordered  to  confine 
the  attack  to  the  village,  named  Ackia,  which 
flag  was  the  most  remote  from  the  one  under 
the  English  flag. 

The  order  of  the  attack  being  given,  the 
division  commanded  by  Noyan  moved  briskly 
on,  and  under  the  protection  of  mantelets 


394  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

carried  by  the  company  of  negroes,  arrived 
safely  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  on  which  the  vil- 
lages stood.  But  there,  one  of  the  negroes 
being  killed,  and  another  wounded,  the  rest 
flung  down  the  mantelets,  and  took  to  their 
heels.  The  French  pushed  on,  and  penetrated 
into  the  village,  with  the  company  of  grena- 
diers at  their  head.  But  being  no  longer 
under  cover,  and  much  exposed  to  the  fire  of 
the  enemy,  their  losses  were  very  heavy.  The 
noble  and  brilliant  Chevalier  de  Centre  Coeur, 
a  favorite  in  the  army,  was  killed,  and  a  num- 
ber of  soldiers  shared  his  fate,  or  were  dis- 
abled. However,  three  of  the  principal  forti- 
fied cabins  were  carried  by  the  impetuosity 
of  the  French,  with  several  smaller  ones  which 
were  burned.  But  as  a  pretty  considerable 
intervening  space  remained  to  be  gone  over, 
to  assail  the  chief  fort  and  the  other  fortified 
cabins,  when  it  became  necessary  to  complete 
the  success  obtained,  Noyan,  who  had  headed 
the  column  of  attack,  turning  round,  saw  that 
he  had  with  him  only  the  ofiicers  belonging 
to  the  head  of  the  column,  some  grenadiers. 


Bienville's  expedition.  395 

and  a  dozen  of  volunteers.  The  troops  had 
been  dismayed  by  the  death  of  Captain  De 
Lusser,  of  one  of  the  sergeants  of  the  grena- 
diers, and  of  some  of  the  soldiers  of  this  com- 
pany who  had  fallen,  when  they  had  attempted 
to  cross  the  space  separating  the  last  cabin 
taken  from  the  next  to  be  taken ;  seeking  for 
shelter  against  the  galling  fire  of  the  enemy, 
they  had  clustered  behind  the  cabins  of  which 
they  had  already  taken  possession,  and  it 
was  impossible  for  the  officers  who  com- 
manded the  tail  of  the  column,  to  drive  them 
away,  either  by  threats,  promises,  or  words 
of  exhortation,  from  their  secure  position. 
Paitting  themselves  at  the  head  of  a  few  of 
their  best  soldiers,  in  order  to  encourage  the 
rest,  the  officers  resolved  to  make  a  desperate 
attempt  to  storm  the  fortified  block-house 
they  had  in  front  of  them.  But  in  an  instant, 
their  commander,  the  Chevalier  de  Noyan, 
D'Hauterive,  the  captain  of  the  grenadiers, 
Grondel,  lieutenant  of  the  Swiss,  De  Yelles, 
Montbrun,  and  many  other  officers  were  dis- 
abled.    Still  keeping  his  ground,  De  Noyan 


396  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

sent  his  aid-de-camp,  De  Juzan,  to  encourage 
and  bring  up  to  him  the  wavering  soldiers, 
who  had  slunk  behind  the  cabins.  But,  in 
making  this  effort,  this  officer  was  killed,  and 
his  death  increased  the  panic  of  the  troops. 

Grondel,  who  had  fallen  near  the  walls  of 
the  enemy,  had  been  abandoned,  and  a  party 
of  Indians  was  preparing  to  sally  out  to  scalp 
him,  when  a  sergeant  of  grenadiers,  ashamed 
of  the  cowardice  which  had  left  an  officer  in 
this  perilous  and  defenceless  position,  took 
with  him  four  of  his  men,  and  rushed  to  the 
rescue  of  Grondel,  without  being  intimidated 
by  bullets  as  thick  as  hail.  These  five  in- 
trepid men  reached  in  safety  the  spot  whea-e 
Grondel  lay,  and  they  were  in  the  act  of  lift- 
ing him  up  to  carry  him  away,  when  a  gene- 
ral discharge  from  the  fort  prostrated  every 
one  of  them  dead  by  the  side  of  him  they 
had  come  to  save.  But  this  noble  deed  was 
not  lost  upon  the  army ;  the  electrical  stroke 
had  been  given,  and  was  responded  to  by  the 
flashing  out  of  another  bright  spark  of  hero- 
ism.    A  grenadier,  named  Kegnisse,   rather 


Bienville's  expedition.  39' 

inflamed  than  dastardized  by  the  fate  of  hi- 
companions,  dashed  out  of  the  ranks  of  h :  s 
company,  ran  headlong  to  the  place  wher 
Grondel  lay  weltering  in  his  blood,  from  th 
five  wounds  he  had  received,  took  him  on  hi- 
athletic  shoulders,  and  carried  him  away  i? 
triumph,  amid  the  general  acclamations  an  f 
enthusiastic  bravos  of  those  who  witnessc  t 
the  feat.     To  the  astonishment  of  all,  he  ha  ' 
the  good  luck  to  pass  unscathed  through  tl  -^ 
fire  which  was  poured  upon  him  by  the  en   - 
my,  but  the  inanimate  body  of  Grondel  whi(  ' 
he  was  transporting  received  a  sixth  woun  ■ 
So  generously  saved  from  the  Indian  torn- 
hawk,  this  of&cer  slowly  recovered,  and  w; -^ 
subsequently  raised  to  a  high  rank  in  ti 
French  army. 

Noyan,  seeing  at  last  that  he  was  exposii;;; 
himself  and  his  brave  companions  in  vair, 
and  fainting  from  the  effects  of  his  woun<', 
ordered  a  retreat  from  the  open  field,  aii' 
taking  shelter  in  one  of  the  cabins,  sent  woi  , 
to  Bienville,  that  he  had  lost  about  seventh 
men,  and  that  if  prompt  relief  was  not  sen; 

34 


398  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

the  detacliment  would  be  annihilated.  On 
hearing  this  report,  Bienville  sent  Beauchamp 
with  a  reserve  of  eighty  men,  to  support  the 
troops  engaged,  and  to  bring  off  the  wounded 
and  dead.  Beauchamp  reached  the  spot 
where  the  little  band  of  Frenchmen  was  con- 
centrated, and  where  the  strife  had  been 
hottest.  Seeing  that  no  headway  could  be 
made  he  covered  the  retreat  of  the  band,  and 
brought  off  to  the  French  camp  most  of  the 
wounded  and  dead.  The  Choctaws,  who  had 
left  the  French  to  shift  for  themselves,  seeing 
them  retreat,  wished  to  show  their  spirit,  and 
made  a  movement,  as  if  to  storm  the  village. 
But  a  general  discharge  from  the  enemy, 
killing  twenty-two  of  their  men  caused  them 
to  make  a  retrogade  inovement,  much  to  the 
amusement  of  the  French.  The  battle  had 
lasted  during  three  hours,  and  when  evening 
came,  the  scene  was  as  quiet  as  if  the  blast 
of  war  had  never  scared  the  birds  from  the 
trees  or  the  cattle  from  the  plain. 

After  the  severe  repulse  which  the  French 
had  met,  nothing  remained  but  for  them  to 


Bienville's  expedition.  399 

retreat.  Bienville  saw  that  lie  could  not  de- 
pend upon  the  Choctaw s,  and  the  fortifica- 
tions of  the  Chickasaws  were  too  strong  to  be 
carried  without  cannon  and  mortars.  On  the 
22d  of  May,  the  day  following  that  of  the 
battle  of  Ackia,  Bienville  had  litters  made  to 
transport  the  wounded;  and  at  one  in  the 
afternoon,  the  army  formed  itself  into  two 
columns,  which  had  been  the  order  of  march- 
ing in  coming,  it  began  its  retrogade  move- 
ment. The  troops  were  much  worn  out  with 
the  fatigue  they  had  undergone,  and  the  labor 
of  transporting  the  baggage  and  wounded  was 
difficult.  Slow  marching  disgusted  the  Choc- 
taws,  and  one  portion  of  them,  headed  by  the 
chief  Eed  Shoe,  wished  to  abandon  the  French. 
But  the  more  numerous  part,  aided  by  the 
eloquence  of  Bienville,  succeeded  in  inducing 
them  to  remain. 

On  the  29th,  the  French  reached  the  place 
where  they  had  left  their  boats.  They  found 
the  river  falling  fast,  and  they  hastened  to 
embark  the  same  day.  After  a  laborious 
passage,  they  arrived  at  Tombigbee  on  the 


4:00  STORIES  OF  THE  INDIANS. 

2d  of  June,  and  from  thence  returned  to  New 
Orleans.  The  expedition  had  been  well 
planned,  and  vigorously  executed,  but  unfor- 
seen  circumstances  defeated  it.  The  Chicka- 
saws  had  proven  much  better  warriors  than 
they  had  been  thought  to  be,  and  had  de- 
fended themselves  with  an  obstinacy  as  un- 
expected as  it  was  successful.  The  English 
supported  that  tribe  in  their  war  with  the 
French,  and  they  were  thus  enabled  to  main- 
themselves  against  all  the  expeditions  sent 
against  them. 


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